Jean waved his mug to catch Lisa’s attention as she squinted into the bar’s dimness from the open door. “You look cheerful,” he noted with a grin as she pulled out a chair.

Faint color painted her cheekbones and she gave him a mild glare. “Don’t you start too. Gracia is bad enough, giving me those doting looks every time I turn around.”

Jean had to admit, Gracia-san had been looking as if the whole thing had been her idea. Which made him think again about the woman who was, after all, married to Maas Hughes.

“So why don’t we talk about how your life has been going, instead,” Lisa continued, firmly.

“Because mine is incredibly boring?” Jean snorted glumly and consoled himself with another swallow. “Every morning when I come in and look at those damn stacks of paper I think I should request a field posting. This desk-job stuff is for the birds.”

“You’ll never get promoted with that attitude,” she teased, straight-faced.

“I think you’re confusing me with someone else,” he drawled and smiled when she laughed. “Seriously,” he added, “I’d volunteer for one of the Northern deployments tomorrow, except then I wouldn’t be here for—” He remembered his image just in time and bit off the rest of it, burying his nose in his mug.

“For the base Snow Games, this year? Yes, you have a title to uphold, don’t you?” Lisa was leaning her chin in her hand and giving him an affectionate and crooked smile. It didn’t quite match her innocent tone, but Jean was just grateful that she didn’t call him on his little slip in public.

“Right,” he agreed, promptly, and paused. “So, um. How is he anyway?”

“Overworking, of course.” She shrugged. “About the only things he doesn’t ignore are his exercises; food and sleep have to ambush him.”

Jean shook his head. That was Mustang, all right. “At least you’re around to make sure he gets some.”

“Mm.” Lisa smiled down into her mug. “He’s happy with the work he’s doing, though, insane hours and all. And so am I.” Her eyes turned a little distant. “Do you know, I haven’t taken my guns off their rack in over a month?”

Jean, who had always watched Lisa’s face more than her target, on the shooting range, smiled. “I hear your job is really taking off, too.”

“It’s not doing too badly,” she said in a judicious tone that seemed absurd given the amounts of money rumor said she was dealing in these days.

“Next round’s on you, then,” he declared, leaning back.

She gave him an exasperated look. “The next round was on me, anyway.”

Jean took a satisfied drag on his cigarette as she signaled the bar. Everything was on track, and he could relax.

TBC