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"Yeah, you can. It ain't real crispy though. Like.. it's real chewy. But it tastes like bacon an' that's all that matters."

Tuck started moving down the hall.

"Raisin bran. I just put a shitload of extra sugar on it."

There would be no goddamn accident about it: the first foreign buzz of Evan's phone alerted him to a rare tag on the internal network he never paid attention to. He was confused, at first--he had used it a few times, but still wasn't quite sure how it worked--and then startled when he noticed who had tagged him. It turned into surprise at Gnat's subsequent comments before melting into fond, exasperated annoyance. He supposed he should have been upset that, after all of this time, this was how Gnat decided to let him know that she was still alive, but he supposed that could wait. That she was alive was the important part.

That didn't mean he would make her breakfast on command, but he would be there in the cafeteria kitchen waiting for her, pacing in agitation and periodically checking the phone clutched in his hand.

Gnat was about to make a comment about the many ways the statement '********' could be applied to the situation re: 'Heidi' when a certain blonde haired hunk of whoa boy had he always been that hot came into view. She grinned worriedly at Tuck. Surely this tactic couldn't blow up in her face - it had totally worked on the Parent Trap.

"Howdy," she began cheerfully. "You know, I don't think condoms last two years, if it's any consolation. Still, it's er."

"Nice t' see you again."

Yeah. Social skills.

"Wouldn't give a ******** if you had," Tuck quipped with false humor as he moved into the kitchen, because the last thing he ******** wanted to see was everything going ******** keen for both Evan and his sister - not when his own life was topsy ******** turvy.

Besides, raisin bran sounded really ******** good.

Evan squinted after Tuck, too, with distracted concern. He turned it on Gnat at her dumb question. "s**t happens when you're gone for a goddamn year and a half without a word to anyone." He may have been happy she was home, but that didn't mean she was off the hook for being out of touch and making them worry.

He could stow the interrogation, though, at least until after breakfast. "Bacon or sausage?" Evan asked the twins, already rooting around in the fridge.

"Bacon AND sausage, there is no or."

Gnat shrugged uncomfortably. "Sorry. I got called to 'nother base. Was okay. Not much to do but patrols and paperwork." She glanced at her shoes as if searching for words that could suitably express how foolish she'd been.

"I thought maybe like. I could, you know. Make a name for myself."

And she had. Gnat Ross, worst sister ever.

"Okay, grumplestiltskin, you can't REALLY be saying no to bacon and sausage," she called to Tuck, hoping to change the subject.

Tuck glanced at Gnat so that he could watch her reaction to Evan's question.

"Must not," he responded before she got a chance to. "Else she woulda called. She must not know how to write, neither. Else she woulda. Tweets was probably out of the question, too. Direct messages."

Tuck finished his bowl of cereal and rinsed the bowl, setting them aside before leaning against the counter again.

Resentment settled around him like a thick, viscous cloak. His face pinched up as he watched Evan move around the kitchen with ease. He was more pissed at Gnat than anyone, and he wanted to lash out at her - for leaving, not calling, for showing up and immediately inviting Roberts to their reunion. Doing so would only get him sussed at by Evan, and that would really piss him off.

So he shut his trap, made an irritated noise, and once more reminded himself that he was a piece of s**t. A huge, huge piece of s**t.

The rhythmic staccato of onions being diced stopped abruptly as Gnat mentioned Sasha's name, and he looked up at her with an almost panicked expression on his face. "Stop tweeting. Right goddamn now."

The knife was set aside to allow Evan to reach for his phone. He scrolled through the recent messages, his face growing ever more grim as he read them. He had already rearranged his priorities from cooking to damage control, his slicing and dicing forgotten as he awkwardly poked out a message on his phone.

He left it out as he turned to attend to the bacon and sausage. "You may want to watch her six for the next few days," he said to Tuck.