Face’s approach was so silent that neither noticed until he was almost at the table. Both turned to look at him and, seeing the expression on his face, fell silent.
He turned to Dia. “I promise I will never make you so mad that you borrow an X-wing, take it up, and use it to burn me to a cinder.”
“Smart of you.” She gestured at the third chair. “Whose turn is it to cook?”
“Yours.”
“We’ll order something.”
He sat and turned to his daughter. “And you, young lady . . . Beware of older military officers who chase you when you’re a teenager. They’ll just dump you when you turn thirty.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Dad, I hate it when you bring work home.”