Carson spent a long moment inspecting his new ensemble before he put it on. For Striders, the belt they wore was part of the job. Medicine, tools, survival gear, dozens of small things could fit easily into the belt's pouches. But when push came to shove, it just wasn't big enough for warfare. Ammunition had always been a problem for Striders, which was why they relied so much more on their knives and hatchets and other tools before resorting to guns.<br/><br/>So now instead they had devised a version of the Runner's harness for their own ends. It fit over his armor, with a thin plate of extra material providing even more padding between danger and flesh. Over that a cloth mesh had been rigged, designed for a wide array of pouches and clips to strap right on. He had enough ammunition to take down a small army on his own, now, along with an array of grenades on his belt that had replaced medicine and survival tools.<br/><br/>He wondered at the meaning that might be hidden behind replacing tools of life with devices of death.<br/><br/>Before he could strap the vest on, though, Malia appeared and hugged him. He put his arms back around her, squeezing her as tightly as he could. Things weren't perfect between them, the idyllic days they had shared before that fight in the woods long gone, but they had been better. Stronger, even, in his opinion. When she broke away he kept his hands on her shoulders, squeezing tight. "I'll be back before you know it," he said softly. "And if I DO get in trouble--well, good. I'll be glad to know you're not in it with me. More focused and able to handle it. I'll come back to you no matter what happens, Malia." He held her face and kissed her, full and soft and warm on the lips. With that he took the vest and his rifle and turned to the door, stepping halfway out before he looked back at her. "I love you. Be safe." And then he was gone.