"hey pretty baby," her voice comes from behind you as two muscular arms snake around your waist. you should be focusing on your written report for your patrol, but... abby is back, and with her intoxicating, familiar, earthy smell.

"I missed you. I hate when we're on different routes."

you're always on different routes. the WLF learned that lesson when the two of you walked 100 metres into the track, then gave up and had a day-long picnic.