As I plummeted toward - I hoped - the Province of Alberta, I
still didn't have time for a lot of rumination.  While the icy wind
snapped at my clothes and the glowing dial of the altimeter on my
wrist wound down, I only had one stray thought:
        How did I get into this again?

Ooh, in medias res cold open followed by flashback. Nice.

(If you're uneasy about the use of technical terms for writing stuff, feel free to read that as "I like how this one starts in the middle of things and then goes back to show how things went up to the point we saw at the start, 'cause that's more interesting that way.")

 So over the next
six weeks, I threw myself into Sakura.  ... Let me rephrase that.  I
spent all of my time working on her.  ... What I mean is...
        (Look, I know what you're thinking, and Zoner keeps giving me
this irritating little smirk, but -really-.)

I'm sorry, Ben, I'm just a relentless pervert and hopelessly immature. I'm sure you don't actually mean it, that's what makes it *funny* and not squicky as heck.

 "Why do you care?" I asked, probably more sharply
than I really intended.  "She kicked your ass for you."
        "Yeah, well... it could be argued that I was asking for it,"
Guile replied with something it took me a few moments to recognize as
mild sarcasm. 

By Jove, he has a sense of humour! Perhaps there's hope for him yet!

       I stared at the handset for a second - that was simultaneously
the best and worst news I'd had in weeks, and the most affecting thing
Guile had ever said to me - then put it back to my head and said, "Uh...
thanks.  No, seriously, thank you.  I... I kind of suspected as much?
But it's nice to have it sort of confirmed."

I just kind of like this. It really shows how much of a state Gryph is in, for Guile to go from "not this guy again" to "one of my bestest friends in the world aside from Zoner" just by confirming that yes, Cammy has a thing for Gryph too.

      Lara Croft - world traveler, traceuse, adventure archaeologist
extraordinaire - was as famous to civilians (that is to say, non-street
fighters) as anybody in my circle of friends and acquaintances, or at
least tied with Ken Masters - but Zoner and I knew her when, before the
Discovery Channel series or the improbably dramatized TNT biopic.

Yay Lara! Because everything needs more tomb raiding. And Tom braiding.

       ... and over the course of our Peru adventure, she managed to
let me down easy with such consummate aplomb that we've been the kind of
friends who can talk about any damn thing ever since. 

Because geeky brown-haired *girls* are more Lara's type. (Hey, I can dream, too...)

She's disapproved of all the girlfriends I've had since (not, as
my grandfather says, that they could fill a rowboat)

This struck me as sort of weird at this point - seemed like sort of a snobby thing to do, and Lara doesn't come across as snobby. But it made more sense later.

       "That's what Zoner said."  She gave me a quizzical look as she
swung into a roundhouse kick and asked, "Sensei, who's 'Nabokov'?"
        I was so startled by the question I completely failed to defend
myself and took one of her size-6 Chuck Taylors right in the breadbox,
entirely unprepared for it. 
        "Oh my God, Sensei, are you all right?  What did I do?"
        "... good... good hit," I managed to croak.  "that's all for
now.  please go inside and tell zoner that i will kill him someday."
        She hesitated, biting her lip.  "Are you sure?  I didn't really
hurt you, did I?"
        "no, no," I replied.  "just need a little rest.  i'm old now and
i get tired."

I laughed and I laughed.

        "Caitlin Sanders, SIS.  Would you come with me, please,
Mr. Hutchins?"
        I considered the request for a moment, then replied, "No."
        She blinked.  "... I'm sorry?"
        "I said no," I told her.  Keeping my tone pleasant and
nonconfrontational, I explained, "It's the opposite of an affirmative
response.  In this context, it means I do not care to go anywhere with
you or any other SIS sonofabitch at this time.  As it were."

Good banter. I mean, it fits him.

(to be continued because it is Way Too Late and I need sleep.)