"Then quit trying to put them through their paces. You're teaching them to fight like a merc, like a freelancer. They need to fight like a unit. A squad. Like soldiers." A lot might have happened since he last owned a uniform, since he last held some kind of rank. Since he had a unit he knew inside and out and put his life on the line for- but he remembers how it works. That kinda stuff gets ground into the blood.

He sits back, bowl empty, staring at Wash like- well. Like he's a stranger. Because this? Isn't the kid he knew.

This is the man that shot at him without thinking.

It's never going to be easy to reconcile the two. Voice flat and face blank, he drawls. "I'll take over drills."