“You’re not in your home. You’re with your family, but I imagine it would be different if you’d come home to a house you know.” He turned and sat next to her. “Above that, there’s a process of acceptance. You experienced this extreme event, and now you feel this way. Human beings aren’t supposed to experience events like that, but you did. And then you develop coping mechanisms for the times when it overwhelms you.”

She smiled up at him. “I hear you speaking from the voice of experience.”

“We’ve been involved in a war somewhere for my entire career. I don’t think you want to understand my experience.” He grinned. “Besides, you’re a pacifist, remember? I’d hate to ruin my chances with you.”

“I’m still a pacifist,” she said. “But I think it has morphed into an understanding. I think I now understand the occasional necessity for an appropriate application of force, even if I would personally prefer that it wasn’t ever necessary.”

He leaned toward her, bumping his shoulder against hers. “You just described every member of my team.” Dropping the lighthearted tone, he added, “None of us want it. Each of us feels remorse when the deeds are done. But we do not abjure violence. ‘Those who abjure violence can only do so because others are committing violence on their behalf.’”

“Someone has been reading his Orwell.” Her face grew serious. “I can understand that. I can.”

For several quiet moments, he waged an internal debate, hearing the countering opinions of Peña and Bill. He finally screwed up his courage and asked, “Would you be free to join me for dinner tonight?”

Her eyes widened, and he feared she would flat-out turn him down, laugh in his face, demand to know what made him think he could ask such a thing. Instead, a smile lit up her face. “I would love to.”

He gestured behind him. “How does that work with your chaperones?”

He could tell she hadn’t considered them. After a moment, she said, “I think I’ll be safe enough with you. I can tell them not to join us tonight.”

He frowned. “Is that safe in itself?”

“I think you can handle anything that comes at me.” She stood. “You’ve not let me down yet.”

His attention focused on the weight of the Silver Star hanging from his chest. He wanted to touch it but didn’t want to fidget in front of her. “I will do my best not to let you down, Cynthia.”

She blinked. “You don’t have to tell me that. I know.”

He looked at his watch, having a hard time believing it was already three. “What time is good for you tonight?”

“Let’s say seven. I want the sun to still be up. Dress casually.” She started to walk away but spun on her heel. “Do you have a car?”