(Connie's POV)
Jack goes to bed after dinner, worn out from a full day of game drives and narration, and somehow the two of us end up at the same campfire afterward.
Not by design, just by proximity. The only fire still burning at this hour, everyone else already retreated to their tents.
We stay there by inertia more than intention, both of us apparently deciding the effort of getting up outweighs whatever awkwardness might come from staying.
We talk longer than either of us plans to. The stars out here are absurd, dense and close in a way they never manage back home, and there's something about that particular sky that loosens people's tongues more than they'd like.
It turns argumentative inside ten minutes, which surprises neither of us. It turns interesting inside five more, which
