Date/ Time: Tuesday, 29 June 1943/ around 1100 hours Who: Captain Doubletree and Delilah Domont Where: Outside the Administration RAF offices
Captain Doubletree was always conflicted when it came to waiting. Unfortunately, so far all of his time at Chipping-Ongar had been a waiting game. They had to wait for the formal dedication of the field, for the planes to be in operational order. . .hell, for them to be painted in the first place. Squadrons were being situated, new officers such as Sam himself were still undergoing training, and all the Captain wanted to do was get up in the air and get to work. Waiting meant that his mind was on other things, things his mind wandered to when it should have been preoccupied - such as trying to see if a certain airman was painting a plane at the moment.
He'd taken a walk after breakfast and drills in his down-time, as the men had all gone to do their work on the base. He knew he'd beg for the free time once missions started pouring in, and was a hypocrite in that respect, but he hardly minded. Sam grumbled to himself as he saw a group of men with paint cans walk toward one of the Marauders, ducking back behind one of the Nissen huts turned into the RAF oversight administration offices, finding a good spot to sit and observe, and maybe have a smoke.
At least the weather was nice, and at least he could afford the quiet and calm before things really started to heat up. It was boring as hell, but sometimes boring was greeted happily. The tall man sat on a crate right outside a window, lighting a cigarette and leaning back against the metal shell of the hut. Out of the idleness, Captain Doubletree hummed a song to himself as he smoked, getting a letter from back home out of his jacket pocket.
Little did he know the smoke was probably coming in through the window into the offices, as well as the deep grumble of his humming.