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“Oh God.”
“I don’t know about you, but I left home with the clothes on my back. I could use a coat and some clothes of my own. Maybe a change of underwear? Oh, and a phone charger. I’m just lucky I had my wallet in my pocket.”
Gunner rolled his eyes. “I’d kill for a field kit right about now.”
“What’s a field kit?”
“It’s a prepacked bag with everything I’d need to survive in the field for several months.”
“Does it include weapons?”
“You do know what my job is, right?” Gunner asked dryly.
“Yes, dear. I’m aware of what you do,” he answered in his best television-mother voice.
“Fu—”
“Don’t do it. That mom with the death-ray stare is at the other end of this aisle.”
“Fuck her too,” Gunner breathed.
Chas chuckled under his breath.
Their cart was shockingly full by the time they were ready to check out.
“Oops. Forgot one important thing,” Chas added.
“What’s that?”
“Car seat.”
“Come again?”
“Poppy needs a car seat.”
Gunner rolled his eyes so hard, Chas wondered how they didn’t pop out of his head. They duly returned to the baby section, grabbed a car seat, and returned to the checkout line.
“This kid is costing a fortune,” Gunner complained when he saw the rung-up total. He pulled several hundred-dollar bills out of his wallet.
“Let me charge it to my credit card, then—”
“No,” Gunner said sharply. The clerk looked up, startled.
When they left the store, Chas held out the long receipt. “Here. Charge the US government for it if you’re so freaked about me not charging it.”
“This isn’t an official operation.”
“Fine. Send me a bill. I’ll pay you back.”
“I can afford it,” Gunner snapped. “It’s not like I ever take any time off to spend my salary.”
“Really? You never take vacations?”
“Where would I go?”
“Home? To visit friends? Someplace pretty and relaxing, perchance?”
“I don’t speak to my parents, I work with my only friends, and I don’t do ‘relaxing.’”