The Old Guard - Nile & Booker
“May 17, 1770.” Booker offered it softly, but there was no hesitation in his voice.
Nile was surprised; she’d half-expected more evasion, or superstitious bullshit. He smiled at her, one of his lopsided smiles that always looked like something more than humour tugging at his mouth, a hook of something painful.
“I take it Andy wouldn’t tell you hers.”
Nile snorted. “She laughed in my face. Anyway, thanks, man. I know it’s silly, but..”
“It isn’t silly.” He met her gaze, the smile gone, but his eyes were warm. “It’s celebration. Remembrance. Joy. We could use some of that back.”