Rebecca groaned and flexed her fingers wide open and closed several times. "God... even with this gadget Ronnie scrounged up for me... loading one of these 60's SUCKS." She flipped the lever on a black plastic device she held down atop the chunky magazine to push a round down against the spring loaded feed, slid a fresh round into the space it created, and flipped the lever again.

"I should be grateful for what I have though... until she got it from Erik for me... just... RIP my thumbs, pushing sixty rounds in one at a time."

Sam looked up at her with a smile, shook her head affectionately, and went back to coiling the flex cam more tidily than she had at the end of their training session. "That was sweet of you, checking in on Ronnie like that."

Rebecca clacked the lever again. "Well, she took such good care of me for several months, even when I wasn't with it enough to realize she was. And, you know. We might as well assume everyone is having a rough time emotionally, just given the scale of shit that's happened." Her tone changed for the last few words of her sentence, a little distant and reflective.

Sam kicked Rebecca's toe under the table to bring her back. "If you're not freaked out, something's wrong with you? Yeah, pretty much. Maybe she's able to process it, or at least function through it better, having seen so much more than we have? A thicker skin?"

"Maybe. But that worries me too, like, would it all build up? And might that thicker skin mean we wouldn't notice if she was having trouble? Or even that she wouldn't?"

Sam slid the camera into its pouch on the armor she had hanging over the back of a dining chair. "It's possible, but don't get trapped spinning about it. You did the right thing today, just checking in, making sure she knew she had people."

Rebecca paused the movements of her hands and looked over at Sam with a feigned thoughtful frown. "That sounds familiar. Like I've heard it somewhere before."

Sam tapped her chin. "About 4 or 5 months ago? Yeah, that sounds about right." She smirked at the allusion to her early lectures along very similar lines. "And see? Look at Chrissie and Pat stepping up to help you."

"I know, I know. I listened to you eventually. They didn't have to."

"That's part of why they did, babe. That, and we're kinda all in this together."

Rebecca lifted her eyebrows briefly and quirked her mouth to one side, conceding the point, and loaded another round into the magazine. Four rounds of silence later, she sighed. "I'm a little nervous about tomorrow."

Sam set down the radio handset she was about to attach to her armor and walked around the table to Rebecca, sitting in the chair next to her. "In a bunch of different ways, I bet. You've got more to be edgy about than the rest of us."

Rebecca lay the magazine down and reached out to Sam, who took her hands in hers. "Yeah. I... you know, I think I've reached a stable point grieving for Jaime. Like, it hurts, hell yes it hurts, but it doesn't sneak up on me anymore. I don't THINK a few new reminders of him will set me back too much, maybe they will. But I don't know what other reminders of my old life WILL ambush me and knock me off balance. And that's on top of just worrying about staying safe and if we'll run into any trouble."

Sam squeezed her hands gently. "It's always the little details that getcha out of the blue, isn't it. Never the thing you're expecting or prepared for. But, I'll be with you. We'll all be with you. Well, except Rufus, he'll be here sleeping or eating while we do all the hard work, but he'll be here for you to slobber on you when we get back, because we ARE going to get back just fine. We're going to have dozens of people with us, hardened survivors and trained professionals, and we're only going a few miles. We'll have a ton of hardware with us... a fucking grenade launcher! Even Cat's going to be there after we tell her it's clear to bring the truck in."

"All these people just so I can go look for a pair of shoes I left behind or my favorite mug."

Sam grinned. "It's almost enough to make you feel special, isn't it?" She leaned forward to kiss Rebecca as she stood again. One hand's fingertips traced along the back of Rebecca's hand, then up her arm and across her shoulders as she circled behind her and returned to her own gear.

Rebecca reopened her eyes after enjoying the sensation for a moment. "Even if it wasn't, you sure are."

Sam pretended to roll her eyes. "Hah. Such a line. I'm glad you didn't use them all up night before last."

Rebecca smirked as she finished putting the last several rounds (back) into the magazine they'd emptied for training and set it aside on the table — still figuring out what to carry as her combat load. Probably go for the two extremes, the P90 and Felicia? She wasn't sure if the military squaddies would be bringing any long-range coverage themselves, so maybe she'd better. "Jeez," she shook her head with a single half-chuckle. "Just a year and a half ago I was planning out when to write the next part of an essay, or what quiz to study for. It feels a lifetime away."

Sam smiled at her empathetically. "Yeah. In a way, I suppose it was. It's hard to believe you're the same person, right? Who the hell would have thought." Then after a short pause, "Are you okay?"

Rebecca nodded. "I am. Just... one of those recurring waves of surreality, I guess. Maybe it's on my mind because we might be starting to find our way back." She nodded again, but this time to point towards Sam's gear. "Do you need help with anything?"

"No, this is pretty much squared away. Why don't you take Rufus out for his evening constitutional, and I'll pack our lunches for tomorrow?"

Rebecca paused as she stood, with a laugh. "What? So domestic sounding..."

"I know, right? PB&J's and everything."

"I repeat my inquiry. What?"

Sam's eyes twinkled as she stepped around into the kitchen, both Rufus and Rebecca tracking her with their eyes. She pulled a rolled-up paper bag from the cupboard, and held it up meaningfully. "Allie slipped me a loaf of bread this afternoon."

"Oh, she does know the way to our hearts, doesn't she?" Rebecca gestured across the counter for Sam to pass her the bag, and held it up to smell with her eyes closed, sighing happily. She was pretty reluctant to hand it back when she opened her eyes again. "Promise you won't eat it all while I'm gone?"

"Hmm." Sam pretended to consider the notion. "Nah... I know you'd never forgive me, and I really can't go back to a cold bed every night."

Rebecca smirked as she lifted a jacket from the back of one of the breakfast bar stools and shrugged it on, pulling her honey-wood blonde hair free of the collar. "It's good to know what I'm valued for. C'mon, Rufus."

He rose to his feet with the swiftness of any dog who recognizes an imminent walk as Rebecca reached for his leash on its "hook" (screw protruding from the wall) , and trotted to her side eagerly. She clipped it to his collar, scooped up her pistol, radio, and a flashlight from where they sat in a small trio on the counter, and turned on Sam's radio where it remained. A slight smile lingered on her face as she left, hearing the clatter of butterknives in the silverware drawer from the kitchen.