"That's what on time means, here."
Hudson snorted. "Man, you are determined not to enjoy this, aren't you?"
Shaw finally looked at him. "I'm not here to enjoy things."
"Yeah, I'm getting that."
Chen’s voice cut through before Shaw could respond—if he was even going to. "Hale, Shaw. Again tomorrow."
Hudson flashed him a mischievous grin as he began walking backwards. "See youtomorrow, partner."
Shaw's mouth shifted into the smallest hint of a smile. The kind that meant he’d already decided he was going to win whatever this was. Hudson had worn the exact one himself enough times to know.
Yeah. Game on.
That night, he lay in his bunk in the dark barracks, thirty candidates packed into rows of metal-frame beds that creaked every time someone shifted. It smelled stale and sweaty despite the industrial soap they’d scraped out of the dispensers.Eau de militaire. Real attractive.
Hudson stared at the underside of the mattress above him, waiting for his brain to let him sleep.
When it didn’t, he closed his eyes and saw Shaw’s stride on that last uphill. The way he’d moved like the terrain was a minor inconvenience. Hudson had been working for it, but Shaw—Shaw seemed just fine. Like he could do all of this in his sleep.
Great. Now he was lying awake thinking about another guy’s cardiovascular fitness. This was a new low even for him.
Training was supposed to burn everything down to instinct, not leave him cataloging some stranger’s lung capacity late at night.
"Hey, Hale." Reed's voice came from the neighboring bunk, low enough not to carry. "Day one down. Only eighty-three more to go."
Hudson huffed out a quiet laugh. Reed had been his bunkmate the last year in 2nd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment. The guy always had his back when Hudson's mouth got him into trouble, which happened more often than he would like to admit. "You counting already?"
"Damn rightI'm counting." He chuckled. “How'd those weak-ass arms hold up during the warm-up plank?"
Hudson grinned into the dark. "Better than yours, apparently. Heard you wheezing like an old man."
"Fuck off. I wasn't wheezing."
"Dude, I could hear you from five spots over. Sounded like you were dying."
"That was tactical breathing."
"Tactical my ass."
Reed snorted and lowered his voice. "Yeah, well, at least I didn't get stuck navigating with Robot Boy all day. How was that?"
"Shaw?" Hudson shrugged in the darkness. "Fine. We finished early."
"Did he say anything at all?"
"Not really."
"See?" Reed shifted, bed frame groaning. "Pretty sure the guy runs on batteries."
"He's just focused."
"Focused is one word for it." Reed yawned. "Anyway. Glad it's you dealing with him and not me. Night, man."
"Night."
Down the aisle, Shaw rolled over in his bunk. Springs creaked, fabric rustled. Then, because apparently Hudson couldn't help himself, he said into the dark, "Hey, Shaw."
