"Great, thanks," I reply.
We walk towards the other pup tent. These aren't basic military issued canvas. These are lightweight, professional, high-end camping tents, another sign that the Khavalovs spent money all over the place.
"I never thought I'd like cooler weather like this. I'm tempted to sleep outside," I say wryly.
"It's a nice break," he agrees. "Sorry about Brianna." Riley clears his throat. "You ever wish they were service members, so we could just deal with this problem the easy way?"
I laugh and glance around to make sure Katya doesn't get the drop on me again. "Every fucking day."
"I'll run interference. Is Jenna really a bed wetter?"
"Yeah."
"I don't even know how to deal with that."
I smile. There's always an easy air with other members of the team. Most were hand selected for my team, and I trust them completely, know them better than anyone else. It's relaxing being around Riley, even when we're quietly standing in a steady stream of rain for a few minutes, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
"Mikael would like this," Riley says.
"Yeah, he would." It's hard to forget the reason we're out here. I have to tolerate Katya for Mikael's sake, as well as Petr's.
"Captain Mathis, Rory hid my shoes."
Riley laughs. We give each other a look then turn to face Morgan. She's wearing her raincoat - and is bare foot.
"See you at dinner," Riley says with a snort and starts towards the mess tent.
"All right, come on," I say to Morgan.
She takes my hand, and I bite my tongue, wanting to remind her that Marines don't hold hands. Seeing her feet sink into the mud, I take pity on the girl and swing her up into my arms and over my shoulder. She's slender and weighs about what my pack today did after Katya stuffed it full of clothes and god knows what else. I didn't double check before slinging it onto my back.
Morgan is giggling. I take her inside the tent and deposit her near her rack. Her shoes are sitting on top of her sleeping bag, and she whirls, glaring at Rory, who looks guilty.
"I told you I was getting Captain Mathis!" she yells.
"No yelling at team members," I chide. "And no stealing shoes." This I direct towards Rory.
He mumbles something. I'm not sure if it's an apology or excuse, but I won't humor either.
"Dinnertime. Line up!" I order them.
The kids scramble into a line, with Morgan falling in last. We're getting looks from the other teams. Unconcerned, I critically evaluate my little team.