"Likewise, cowboy." Response accompanied by an obligatory wink as she skips the last few steps in favor of lunging forward to close the gap between them, index finger winding itself around one of his frontmost belt loops once she's close enough; it's followed, quite predictably, by a tug-- till they're inches apart and she has the opportunity to press a spare clip to Nate's palm, rather than her lips against his.

Soaking wet, covered in dirt and grit in the middle of a warzone. All in all, it's bloody ridiculous.

And she loves it.