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Summary
"What are you going to do?" Bradley asks her, worrying the lip of his coffee cup until it starts to unroll. He knows Phoenix likes time, space. That she needs to decompress before seeing her family post-deployment. This time more than any other, probably.
She shrugs. "Belize, I think."
He turns, surprised, and winces when it wrenches his neck. Everything fucking hurts all the time. He doesn't know how she punched out and then flew the mission. She's un-fucking-real.
"I booked a place for a few weeks. It's on the water. Figured I'd, you know." She gestures vaguely, something Bradley understands to mean 'get my head right.' "You could come."