[h3][color=efcc00]Archer “Griff” Griffin[/color][/h3][hr]
Griff stood a little behind Mikey, hands in his pockets, eyes flicking between the tactical map and the faces around it. Arrows crisscrossed the screen, names and call signs stacked over a coastline he didn’t recognize. The Admiral spoke in measured tones, Callie filled in details, Cristina offered logistics. The rest followed suit.

Griff tried to follow. He really did. But most of it passed through him like static. He didn’t know ship classes or how long it took to breach a carrier deck. He didn’t know the distance between a good plan and a dead one. What he knew was that when things started, people screamed. That thirty seconds in a real fight could stretch into a lifetime, or vanish before you realized you'd missed it. They were going to hit a flagship. They were going to kill someone important. And if it went wrong, it would go wrong fast. That was pretty much all that he understood.

Griff’s eyes found the edge of the map again. Just a line. One more distance he’d be asked to cross. He shifted his weight and scratched lightly at the rim of the bracer clamped to his arm. It hadn’t shifted or changed since the camp. It just sat there, silent, cold, unmoving. Again. And still, the thought crept in. What if it didn’t respond next time? What if it did, and he lost control again? He swallowed it down, just like he had everything else since the breach. Instead, he stepped forward slightly and spoke. Not loud, not challenging. Just enough to be heard.

[color=efcc00]“If we’re landing on a bridge or a top deck, it’s not going to be open space. Not really.”[/color] His tone was steady, eyes locked on the map but not really seeing it. [color=efcc00]“Fighting that close... you don’t get a second chance if you slip. Especially not with all of us packed into one spot.”[/color] He tapped the table once with his knuckle, the motion brief and rhythmic. [color=efcc00]“And what happens if Cao Bao’s not there when we land? Do we have a plan for that?”[/color]

He didn’t expect an answer. Maybe someone would have one. Maybe they wouldn’t. He was used to that part, being the one who asked questions out loud that others didn’t want to say. He drifted back a step, eyes lowering slightly, and let the conversation move on. But his gaze found Mikey’s silhouette beside him again. The faint furrow of her brow. The way she stood with her weight shifted slightly forward, alert, even when exhausted.

She hadn’t said much either, she didn’t need to. Just having her there grounded him more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t sure what had shifted between them exactly, not after the camp, not after that night on the roof, but something had. Something small, and quiet, and certain.

He wasn’t just standing here for the mission, he was standing here because she was too, just in case she needed someone steady beside her again. Without thinking, almost unconsciously, he shifted his stance. One foot slightly forward, like hers. Shoulders square, just like hers.