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with the blue ox, right?” Sydney tilted her head to one side, her braided hair falling over one shoulder.
    “Yeah.” Avery grinned. “Exactly. And I figured that’d be a pretty good gig. I mean the dude had it going on. At least from the perspective of an eight-year-old. So needless to say, I drank my milk.”
    “And kept growing.”
    “To my mother’s dismay. Especially when she realized I didn’t have the talent to be a basketball player or the desire to play linebacker.”
    “You look like you could take out a player or two.”
    “That I can, but I never really saw the point in ramming guys just for the hell of it.”
    “So you joined the CIA.” Her laughter seemed at odds with the relentless fury of the storm, and yet still strangely in sync with it somehow. Sydney Price was definitely in her element.
    “Worse,” he said, still smiling. “I joined the Marines. Although to be fair, when they ram into somebody, there’s usually a damn good reason.”
    “I’m sure your mother was proud.”
    “Actually, she wasn’t. After basketball didn’t pan out, she’d kind of pinned her hopes on more traditional paths. Doctor or lawyer. She wasn’t really all that big on the military.”
    “What about your dad?”
    “He was never in the picture. I saw him only once, when I was about five. And it isn’t a very good memory.”
    “I’m sorry,” Sydney said, crinkling her nose in apology.
    “No worries. We did fine on our own. My mother was strict, but she was always there for me.”
    “And what about now? How does she feel about your working for Langley?”
    Avery sensed there was something more than casual banter to her question. “She never knew. She died before I joined the company. But I suspect she’d have approved even less. My mother was an opinionated woman. And the only thing she was less enamored of than the military was the government. Especially a prejudiced one.”
    “I can relate to that.” Sydney nodded. “On all counts. My mother does know what I do. And she most definitely doesn’t approve. She doesn’t consider it a fit occupation for an Asian woman.”
    “But you’re an American.”
    She shook her head. “Try explaining that to my mother. She’s from here. Laos. Raised in the Xieng Khouang Province.”
    “If I’m remembering right, they were hit pretty hard during the Vietnam War.”
    “Yeah, mostly by U.S. troops. I think it must have been really bad. My mother was only a little girl, but it definitely made an impression. And not a good one. Which is why my mother share’s your mother’s opinion of the U.S. military and by association the CIA.”
    “But she married a U.S. citizen,” Avery prompted, curious now.
    “She did. And my dad is as American as they come. Part Cherokee, actually. Born in the panhandle of Texas. They met when he was living in Laos, teaching English. It was love at first sight. In fact, there’s really only ever been room in their lives for the two of them. I was more like an afterthought.”
    “Were you born in Laos?”
    “Nope. Amarillo. But I spent some of my summers here. With ma tao .”
    “Your grandmother.”
    “You speak Lao.” She looked impressed, so much so that Avery found himself wishing that he actually could speak the language.
    “No. Just a smattering. I’ve worked a couple of operations in this part of the world. So I’ve picked up a few words here and there. But I doubt I could hold a conversation.”
    “Well, even a little is better than nothing.” She smiled. “People here will respect you for making the effort. Most foreigners don’t.”
    “So is that why you got posted here? Your fluency with the language and, I’m assuming, the culture?”
    “I imagine it’s why I got the job. But as far as the posting itself, I asked for it. Don’t get me wrong, I love Texas and I love America. But there’s a part of me that’s just more comfortable here.”
    “And, as far as Langley is concerned, it’s definitely an