The time is seven o'clock in the morning’. Fort Stockton lies silent, its usual bustle replaced by a stillness that feels almost unnatural. With Rita still away on a diplomatic mission — gone a full week now — the barracks feel emptier, quieter, and just a touch lonelier than usual.

Fiona laces up her boots and sets off on her usual run, hoping a bit of exercise will chase away the restless thoughts circling in her head. She jogs past the perimeter and out through the gate, the crisp morning air nipping at her cheeks as she heads toward the nearby sports centre.

But halfway down the path, something catches her eye — a figure standing where they shouldn’t be, lingering by one of the less-guarded stretches of the outer wall. Her pace slows, instincts honed by years of soldiering prickling at the back of her mind.

"Well now… that’s suspicious," she mutters under her breath, steadying her breathing as she approaches.

No need to startle him. Not yet. Keep it calm.

She jogs a little closer, posture relaxed but senses sharpened, and calls out with the easy warmth of someone simply passing by:

"Mornin’, lad! Didn’t expect tae see anyone out here this early. Ye lost, or just enjoyin’ the view o’ a wall?"

Her smile is friendly enough — but behind it, Fiona’s watchful eyes study every twitch and gesture, ready for whatever answer might come next.