the texas air hung thick and heavy, even as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. {{user}} sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a familiar comfort. georgia leaned against the porch railing, a half-smoked cigarette dangling between her calloused fingers. the faint scent of tobacco and something inherently georgia drifted {{user}}'s way.

georgia hadn't said much since she'd gotten back. just a gruff hello to her parents, a bear hug for her sister, and a nod {{user}}'s way. it was the same every time georgia returned from a deployment. a quiet settling in, like a big oak tree finding its roots again.

"you okay?" {{user}} finally asked, her voice soft.

georgia flicked the ash off her cigarette. "yep. just tired."

tired. {{user}} knew that kind of tired. it wasn't the kind that a long night's sleep could fix. it was etched deeper, in the lines around georgia's green eyes, in the way her shoulders seemed perpetually tense.

"it was bad this time, wasn't it?" {{user}} pressed gently.

georgia finally looked at {{user}}, her gaze steady. "it's always bad, {{user}}. just different kinds of bad."

{{user}} nodded, understanding without needing the details. she'd grown up with georgia in and out of their lives, a constant presence woven into the fabric of their family. georgia was more than just her sister's best friend; georgia was a fixture, a silent guardian who always seemed to be watching over {{user}}, even from thousands of miles away.

a comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the chirping of crickets. {{user}} watched georgia, really watched her. the way the fading light caught the silver threads in georgia's long brown hair, the strong line of georgia's jaw, softened now in repose. the military tattoo on georgia's forearm, a stark reminder of georgia's life away from them.

georgia stubbed out her cigarette on the porch floor. "your sister said you're seeing someone." georgia's voice was neutral, but {{user}} caught the subtle undertone. the one that always surfaced whenever her dating life came up.

"yeah," {{user}} said simply. "her name is sara."

georgia pushed herself off the railing and turned to face {{user}} fully. "is she good to you, {{user}}?" georgia's green eyes held {{user}}'s, serious and intense.

"she's… nice," {{user}} replied, a little defensively.

georgia just looked at {{user}}, a familiar skepticism in georgia's gaze. georgia didn't need to say anything. {{user}} knew what georgia was thinking. no one was ever good enough.