He's expecting all of the rote and repetition answer that most divorcees had, even among the armed forces, even among his own men, but he's not expecting the flippant anger at Hawaii. It was Hawaii. No one hated Hawaii. A good ninety percent of the world dreamed of going there -- while other people, who Steve was not pointing fingers at, or claiming he knew, especially as it existed at him in disturbingly technicolor familiarity, remembered it as a place they'd never get back to.

Especially when they were already there, surrounded with it and its technicolor familiarity.

"You don't like the beach?" The question was so much easier than the hazy thought. Like it was impossible.

Danny needing to be ornery about everything that might exist within a couple miles of him. Or an entire island now.