Serene, Tranquil. Violent, Hurtful.

 Crow had received word from one of the few remaining towns outside the Last City. He expected something about some Eliksni pirate raids or Taken outbreaks, but every report stated the only threat was a single man. He was described as large and monstrous, with two short but thick horns and glowing orange-red eyes, though not many got close enough to tell exactly what he was. Those that did, were heavily concussed afterwards. 

Nothing in those reports suggested that he was much of a widespread danger, the only thing he was noted of doing was stealing scrap metal and throwing anyone who tried to stop him on the ground like rag dolls before leaving.

Crow decided to have Yetta do it, giving them both an opportunity to get away from each other, especially after their last encounter. Carman was with her when she came into the meeting room. She barely spoke to him, and all of it was surprisingly professional for her. Carman glanced between the both of them suspiciously but never asked what was wrong with them, thank the Light. He watched them both leave, Carman openly guessing who or what this person was, Yetta shambling next to her quietly.

. . .

It was decided, after much arguing, that they'd take Yetta's ship. The hunter jingled her keys in her hand as she opened the ship, whistling softly. Carman sighed softly, following behind her as Yetta slid into the driver's seat, flicking on the lights and punching the coordinates. She knew Yetta had to be enjoying this, it was rare Carman let her drive to their patrols, missions…whatever. By rare, I mean it never happened. 

Carman had seen her crash her sparrow several times. She didn't have hope for the ship. Yetta had changed her armor, going for something a little less out there. Something better to sneak around in. Smart. Carman sat beside her, leaning back and sighing. 

Small trinkets hanging from the ceiling caught her eye. "What are all of these?" she asked, plucking one down. A small pickup truck sat in her palm, made out of scrap metal.

"Just…tinkering projects." Yetta shrugged, turning on autopilot. She sat back, looking at the ceiling. "Small things to practice with. Eventually, I'm gonna make new tools, new grenades. Something I can pull out when I don't have my Arc grenade ready."

"Don't you *have* a grenade launcher?"

"Not on me, no. My vault has a couple though." She shrugged. "Besides, what I don't have is a grenade slingshot."

"Oh dear."

. . .

He flicked a small, metal crow charm in between his fingers, looking at the clumsy craftsmanship. A gift from Yetta, left on his desk before he had sent them out on the mission. He had to admire the slight of hand that went into placing it there. He hadn't even noticed it until her ship had already taken off. The edges of the wings were dull, but he was careful, nonetheless, with running his fingers over the edges. Crow mulled over the argument with Yetta, his last real conversation with her.

She'd been dead silent during the briefing, avoiding his eyes. And Carman, he realized, most likely knew. About that night, about the fight that had followed. She knew, for sure. Her eyes had borne into his, screaming a silent "fix it. Now."

He had wanted to. Traveler, how he had wanted to. He had almost called after Yetta, asking her to stay behind, and talk this out. But he was still angry at her, and he didn't know why anymore. He flicked the crow over and over, running his fingers over the wings, so carefully attached with what was clearly love. He sighed softly, tossing it onto his desk. They were both at fault, and they both clearly knew it. But Yetta was stubborn, he realized. 

She wasn't going to budge until he apologized, or it ate her up inside. Knowing Yetta, it was the former option, even if it killed her. And as he mulled it over, he realized that he hadn't once asked her if she'd even wanted a few drinks. He didn't even ask for anything after that. Her only fault was not saying no, his fault was that he had pushed. With a soft sigh through his nose, he picked the crow up, tightly holding it as he wandered to the annex. Expectations be damned, he had somebody to apologize to. Like Cayde said, he had to grow a spine.

This seems like a good place to start.