"Pick one. You can have whichever you like."
Click, shuffle, snap. Triela's hands darted precisely over her dismantled Glock 21.
"Triela."
The girl pointedly ignored her handler, squinting down the action to make sure it was clear of dust or anything else that might make it stick during a field operation. It had been slower lately on the range, and she was a little uncomfortable with that.
"Triela, would you please look at the dresses?"
Snap, and then clunk as she set the gun down, all its components intact again. Hillshire sighed.
"If you don't want the dresses, I did get you something else. No, it's not a teddy." Both their glances darted to the shelf where Triela's ever-growing collection of stuffed bears sat in a neat row along the wall. "I thought a girl your age should, you know, have more girlish clothing. You wear suits all the time, after all."
"It's efficient." She was now counting bullets with all the concentrated interest of one specifically avoiding a topic or prolonging a moment. One, click. Two, click. Three, click. Over each casing the magazine's black slider closed. Four, click. Five –
"Triela."
This time she looked up at him, setting the gun down again. "Yes, Hillshire?"
"Don't you want to know what it is?"
"I don't see why you have to buy me clothes all the time."
"Because you never go with me and pick something for yourself."
"Suits are just as good as anything else."
"True, but there are places one doesn't generally wear suits –"
One eyebrow rose in mild curiosity. "Okay, what is it?"
"Are you sure you would not rather have one of the dresses?"
Triela took only a moment to assess the volume of bows and lace on his various 'gifts' before nodding. "Yeah. Definitely."
"Well..." Her handler reached into the bag next to his chair, rustling around in it for a moment before at last extracting a pink paper-encased package. "Open it for yourself."
With the same sureness of motion and decisive coordination that they had addressed the Glock earlier, Triela's hands separated layers of pink paper from the white underneath, to finally uncover –
"What is this? Hillshire!"
The man shrugged, a vague smile tugging at his lips. "I thought it was more appropriate than dresses or suits, considering. You only have the one pair of pyjamas, and they're probably terribly hot during the summer. A girl should have at least one nice nightgown –"
But Triella had already abandoned Hillshire, and her gun, to go try his present on. He supposed it had definitely been prudent to get the grey lingerie instead of the red – she had probably mistaken it for some sort of suit.
At least she was going to wear this thing that he'd bought her, lace, frills, and all.