Carson hadn't been military, but he'd served alongside them. He'd worked to save too many of them, had seen too many of them die. Had taken care of them during a million and twelve minor incidents, yes, but today wasn't about those. Today was about the times far worse.
Today was about remembering them.
Except he didn't know what to do with himself. Going to any of the parties didn't feel quite right, and being by himself didn't feel right. So he'd gone out wandering, ending up by the lake eventually. He saw the woman standing there, knew better than to approach suddenly or even just try to. The way she stood, the way she held herself, that alone would have told him she'd been military. So he approached slowly.