[He makes a point of adjusting the positioning of his arms as to offer greater support, his gaze hard with resolve and fixed on the horizon. She wasn’t his ranking officer nor was he hers, but her steely, authoritative tone does not go unnoticed. Under different circumstances, respecting her request would have been simple enough.]

I’m not going to debate this with you, agent; you and I both know we don’t have the time.

[The answer is in as level a tone as he can muster before he begins plodding through the snow, dead branches cracking underfoot. A beat passes before he thinks to add, lowly and wryly:]

You can kick my ass for it later.