As he moved them closer to the table, she watched while his fingers moved over the keys to bring up two projections. Her eyes went to the right, skimming over the description that outlined the skills that she would acquire should she decide to go the route of a spotter. During their down time, she had the opportunity to learn a little about spotting and she felt she would thrive in a setting that required attention to detail and precise calculations. It was probably as close as she would get to similar skills and knowledge that she had utilized in the past as an aspiring scientist, so she was already more drawn to the idea of selecting option one. On the other hand, she could see the allure of alternative. She shifted in his lap, placing her feet on the ground to lean forward. With her elbow on the table, she rested her chin in her palm, thinking hard about the decision she was about to make. Whatever she decided, she would be acting on it soon, it seemed.<br/><br/>“I think . . . I would like to go with the first option, training as a spotter. After having a little bit of exposure to it, I feel most comfortable going that route than guerilla tactics and ambushes.” She smiled, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “I know I’ve come a long way since being Bell 1 and hyperventilating in the field from a panic attack. I haven’t been in a situation that intense since then, and though I’m probably better equipped to deal with gunfire and explosives better now than I was before, I figure I’ll play to my strengths.” It was nice to reflect on the past and actually find her reaction to her first mission amusing rather than cringe worthy and embarrassing—and to some extent, it still was. “We should probably get back to the apartment. We can talk about it a little bit more over dinner after you put in your calls, if you want. You haven’t eaten since this morning, and if I know you . . . you’re probably hungry.”