[ Naomi tips the bottle to her lips, careful not to look at him too long and instead settling for observing him out of the corner of her eye. He's so very different -- and not just from the last time they'd seen each other, because she'd tracked the Becket boys' career in the years after, the way a girl might a sports star crush, or a band that she'd seen before their rise to stardom.

There's a weight to Raleigh now, a heaviness in even the way he just sits or knocks back the drink that is worlds different from the boy who'd looked straight at her with a smile in his eyes and a good-natured quip on his lips as he told her all that he was allowed to say about training at Kodiak.

She breathes in, exhales: ] For as long as my editor needs me to be out of sight from "upper management," [ she frames those last two words in air-quotes before folding her arms over the counter to let out a quiet, if frustrated sigh. She shrugs and lools over. ] This is me on time-out, so to speak. The U.N. isn't very happy with me right now. [ Freedom of the press, her ass. ]