KP duty is familiar. Of course, so is being put to work by his sister, who scares him more than anyone in a position of authority in the Air Force ever did. Sam grabs the peeler and goes to work without missing a beat.

"There were some emotions running high earlier that got me thinking. Young woman near tears, saying they should get a say in how their dead's belongings are handled."

He knows her name, talked to her after the outburst. Walked her away from the station. She doesn't look like Karli, not even a little. Still reminded Sam, though. He's not about to shine a spotlight on her when she's just hurting.

"I know you got tough calls to make here for survival, and we're damn lucky you're bothering to put anything into our hands when you got your hands full of other shit to juggle. But hurt don't make that girl wrong."

Sam says that carefully, glancing up at Childe briefly while peeling a root. Pure muscle memory taking over there. Riley and him used to make KP duty a competition.

"I know survival and war and tough calls. I'm not questioning getting a dead man's belongings. But are we getting things that were taken rather than given?"