[Sharon and Cat having a drink or ten]
Cat was trying to stay out of the wetwork market these days. Or, well, she'd been trying to. She was just a woman who owned a bar, and that was what she'd intended when she relocated to the middle of nowhere. Oh, sure, she'd intended on spying on the local military facility, but for her own purposes. She'd come to town in order to hunt down her own demons, to maybe steal some family pearls along the way, and to run a cop bar. Easy.
Unfortunately, things hadn't stayed easy.
These days? Cat was working for Uncle Sam again. Not for the military proper, but for a new group of misfits made to deal with big problems. And, really, it was her own fault that her number had been called up. She'd put herself on the radar with her security work for Tethys. Security work which, for the recorded, had accomplished absolutely nothing. She still had no answers about the serum, and Reece was still missing, and Matt was still absolutely insane. A lot of failure, and now she had her diamond collar back on. At least Uncle Sam knew she liked rocks.
When Sharon walked into the bar, she found Cat sitting on a barstool. Cat wasn't supposed to be on her feet, and she was healing slower than she'd anticipated, but she looked comfortable enough in leggings and a slate tunic, and she grinned at the blonde in the baseball cap and jeans. "How about you make us both one? I'm trying to be a good patient and stay off my feet." She propped her elbows on the counter, and it was quiet. For once, no music played, because Cat hadn't bothered with it.