"And my books, and any equipment we pull together..." She exhales a quiet huff of laughter, breath warm against his skin.

"Sounds a bit like early days, doesn't it? What was it we used for a planning station in Saint Petersburg? Milk crates?"

She manages to swallow the question that wants to follow, slightly melancholy - do you miss it? Things hadn't actually been simple then, she's fairly certain, but they'd felt that way. The missions had been smaller, when the gods and monsters were just starting to stir, before Ammit's cult had grown into a threat.