Girl talk.

Jiddah and Julie watched from the window as Samhal Abdali walked backward on the dirt road leading away from their home. He waved once more and then turned and was swallowed up by the night.

"Samhal is a pleasant fellow. Is he not, Julie?"

"Yes, he is a nice person. I enjoyed the evening."

"It is unfortunate Captain Montague was unable to join us."

"Having a guest for dinner was a welcome distraction, Jiddah. But we must not forget that Samhal Abdali and Flynn Montague are hired killers."

"Killers? It is a harsh term."

Julie pulled the niqab back off of her head, turned and went to the dinner table. She poured a couple of ounces of yellow-green liquid from a black bottle into her glass. She plopped down, took a sip from the oddly-shaped vessel.

Jiddah returned from the window and sat across from Julie. She finished the dregs from her own glass. Julie took hold of the bottle and raised her eyebrows: more?

Jiddah said, "No, I think not. I feel my thoughts already clouded behind that green veil."

Julie slipped into English, said, "Maybe that's the reason you think 'killers' is too harsh a term."

"No, that is not it, Juliette. Having shared the evening with Samhal, and witnessing Captain Montague tolerate that foolish attack from Saddiq, it is difficult for me to characterize the boys as killers."

"Jiddah, I have no doubt those two mercenaries have killed. But even if they hadn't, their presence alone results in death. You and I suffer the pain and consequences every day. My parents and your mother were murdered by a Taliban roadside bomb. That happened because Western combatants like the Captain invaded the country; the Taliban is taking revenge on anybody associated with them."

"No, no, Julie. Mister Jack disapproved of foreign occupiers but never considered revenge. Your father abandoned his diplomatic career and renounced his US citizenship in order to devote himself to improving life in Afghanistan, for all Afghans; and he was murdered. There is no appeasing the Taliban."

"True. But the Taliban are shadows that cannot be defeated by Western armies. And while occupiers remain, all Afghan citizens suffer. We must work to spread the hope and light of freedom; the shadows will dissolve.

"I will become a true Afghan, Jiddah. My name is Dahab. I want the occupiers out of the country; especially mercenaries, they are opportunists. I will work for peace to fulfill Jack McNeill's vision of an Afghanistan built by Afghans, for Afghans."

"I admire your commitment and the project you have undertaken, Julie. And I understand your pain; I miss my mother desperately. And I loved your parents like they were my own family. Mister Jack took us in and I was treated as a daughter by them, and as a sister by you. And now you and I are respected, and we live a privileged life in Veerona. That is entirely thanks to your father's legacy.

"I worry, though. It has been well over a year. I fear bitterness replaces your grief, Julie. It is not good, it is unhealthy; I worry about permanent damage. I think social contact with some outsiders would be beneficial."

Julie snapped back a belt of her drink, absorbed the jolt, and then said, "Nothing wrong with social contact. But mercenaries are nothing but a big box of wrong, Jiddah. And unfortunately that is exactly what Samhal Abdali and Captain Montague happen to be."

"Granted, little one. But, hypothetically, for the sake of conversation between sisters, you understand," Jiddah took hold of Julie's fingers. "If the Captain were not a soldier of fortune, would you still object to a touch of... social contact?"

Julie stuck out her lips, waggled her head, thinking about Flynn Montague's grey eyes and his voice and those abs that showed clean-through his tee. A cheeky smile began to curve the corners of her mouth. She said, "Hmm, in that case, maybe not."