Re: The Lieutenant/The Daughter
Everyone was in a state. His state could be focused. Determined. It could be 'not doing push-ups in the train corridor.' It could be the state of being masculine and therefore allowed to exist without needing to be or do anything else. The state of not being on display. The state of not being for consumption. The state of a hand on a girl's hip for no reason at all. Frances didn't push his hand away. A part of her wanted to. Just as a part of her wanted to lean into it. A tempest and a half worked within her. You'd never know it. But, she'd spent a lifetime hiding what went on behind her pretty face.
The solider's voice seemed to resound outward from his chest and he promised her he wasn't going to hurt her. Frances had wide-eyed naïveté down to an art, but she knew better than to believe him. She might've questioned him about it, since she wasn't feeling particularly like enduring at the moment. But, then she noticed the ID disks. She mentioned them... well, her brother... as she swooned inward, heliotropic. But, he, like the sun, didn't seem to notice. It was only the flower that cared, wasn't it? "Pop in... here?" Frances gave the door behind her a questioning glance. What on earth could he need in there? Doe eyes held scrutiny. She caught the bright red end of her nose, but ignored it as she peered back up at the man. "Why?"