“Oh that’s so romantic,” Jeannie gushed. She was not, by current standards, a modern woman. Though in comparison to many others of her ilk who were born several thousand years ago, she was something of a rebel. Having spent some time in the 1960s with the beginnings of the women’s movement had made an impact. However, she had missed the next 30 years’ worth of growth. So to her ear, the story was full of romantic charm, and she did not think that the hero in question was a jackass at all. She thought he was showing how much he cared for the reporter. Especially since he had kissed her.
She nodded at the question that followed, “I know a hero. Well. I knew a hero. He was an astronaut and he saved me. He was handsome and brave and wonderful. I loved him very much.”
Speaking about her former master darling brought a bit of a tear to her eye. Jeannie held out her hand and gave a little blink and a nod, causing an embroidered, lace-trimmed handkerchief to appear in her fingers. She lifted it to dab at her eyes. “Excuse me. I still miss him.”
Then she waved the hand not holding the hanky, as if to brush away her emotions. “Oh it is not that I do not like my current master. Sir Guy is a hero too, in his own way. He fought in the Holy Lands. And he is also very kind and brave and handsome. He gives me a lot of freedom, which is very rare in masters, believe me. But every master is different and I do miss Major Nelson.”