My paper cup of kiosk coffee had already gone lukewarm, and the little brass fastener holding the gold oak leaf on my right collar had worked itself loose twice before sunrise.

I caught the sharp pin with my right thumb a second before it jabbed into my neck.

“You’re dropping your rank all over the concourse floor, Sarah,” Daniel said.

He was standing next to the napkin dispenser with his hands pushed deep in his coat pockets.

He looked at his wristwatch before he met my eyes, running his thumb around the metal bezel twice.

“It’s only a loose brass back,” I said.

I straightened my collar with my right thumb and pressed the little metal disc back onto the pin post until it creaked against the wool.

“That’s the third time you’ve fiddled with it since we parked,” he said.

“The back fastener’s worn out,” I said.

“I’ll replace it once I get to base headquarters.”

“You’ve got forty minutes until your first leg boards,” Daniel said, glancing down at his watch face again.

“If the line at Checkpoint 4 wraps around past the rental car counters like it did last month, you’ll miss the connection.”

“The flight manifest closes at six forty,” I said.

The words came out short and exact, nineteen years of Army staff habits settling over my throat like armor.

“I don’t have any room for mistakes today.”

“Then fix the pin right, now,” he said.

He moved in closer and touched the shoulder seam of my dark navy dress jacket.

“Why did command call for the full formal uniform on a commercial flight?”