"Sounds like fun. I like this whole being able to stretch my legs on land part of being on land."

And this part, too, where they swing back through the highway, sliding through traffic, big blue truck eating up the miles between the mountain and the beach house. The air smells like flowers and jungle plants and salt and steaming hot blacktop and metal, the sky has that burnished brassiness of a day that's too hot for it's own good, and it'll be good to get inside, out of the sun. She's no wilting flower, but even she prefers to avoid sunburn when she can.

Steve's challenge doesn't go unmet, though, and she lifts her own eyebrows back at him, daring, resting her elbow on the window and propping index, middle finger, and thumb against her cheek and jaw.

"Maybe I'll just steal you for the weekend, if you don't have to go in. Aside from the hospital, of course."

She'd like that. It's what they do; take a few days here and there, live out of time and away from missions for a few hours or a night. Nothing she'd want for too long -- they both get antsy when they're too inactive -- but it's sure as hell a great break.