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You herd the still-sniffling Willie into the bathroom long enough to get properly dressed, then rotate places to shave as quickly as you dare. You emerge to find Willie sitting on your unmade bed, swinging her feet nervously and staring at the floor. You finish wiping your face dry.

“Willie?”

“WHAT!?” she says, flinching as if you're poised to strike, her attention snapping to you apprehensively.

“Going to tell me what all this 'scared of me' business is?”

She looks down at the floor and scuffs the carpet with her shoes. “Uhh...”

You wait patiently, using the damp towel to wipe the dust off your working khaki cap - it's been a while since you've worn it. Haven't worn it since before LA, in fact. You've got two pair of dress whites, but you're pretty much introduced to the base, now, and nobody in their right mind wants to wear that goddamned monkey suit every day.