( I’m back so long as I keep this blog open on a browser )
“I’m burning up, and I refuse to take you with me.”
I have a girlfriend? Lucky me.
[ @bayonetsnpeaches That’s You ! ]
Howard is completely oblivious to the game, to the boys’ little bet. Had he known of it, he may’ve found it humorous, though he has no idea of the group’s intentions. A kiss like that – given to him by the wrong person – could ruin Howard’s career. In this moment, though, Howard is too trusting, and believes for no particular reason that Hoosier isn’t here to out him. Releasing the soldier, Howard settles back in his seat, dropping whatever it was he was looking at to focus on the other man entirely.
He’s handsome. They’re probably about the same age. Frankly, with so many fellas running around here, it’s a bit difficult for Howard to keep track of them all. He can’t remember this one’s name.
“ —- You don’t have to go.” He offers. It’s not a demand for Hoosier to stay or go – the choice is up to the soldier. Howard doesn’t want to scare him off, but again… They have to be careful with things like this.
There was a lack of malicious intent behind the bet. (Except maybe towards the losing party.) Entertainment was scarce; if one of their number came back with a pretty black-eye, it'd break up the monotony. Certain things became acceptable amongst dirty uniforms and shared foxholes. Murder, blasphemy; depraved acts and such.
Hoosier turns to face the man reclining in his seat, any pretence of work dropped from his hands. Bill eyes the oddity for a brief second, using the time away from Howard's gaze to settle his smile. Push it down, chewing his lip idly. It's that excited feeling he recognises - because he shouldn't have it. But he does, so he'll indulge.
"Well, y'tent sure is much nicer than mine." He drawls carelessly. Keeping himself from meeting the man's eyes, in case he's misjudged the situation. Tongue running over his lips, Hoosier takes a slow glance behind him. To the closed canvas door, shutting out the island's heat. "Wouldn't mind enjoyin' it a lil longer. Sir."
"Royal fuckin' flush."
Our characters are playing strip poker and they’re both down to their underwear. Send me “Royal Flush” to see how my character reacts when you character gets the winning hand!| Accepting
The Gunnery Sergeant cursed, stabbing his cigarette out. He tossed his cards down before covering his face with his hands. He should’ve listen to the others when they warned him not to play with the privates, especially this one.
Sneaky little fucker.
Jack lifted his head up a bit as Hoosier laid down his cards. Standing up with a sigh, he slipped his thumbs under the band of said underwear and tugged them down. He kicked them to the side, laying in the pile of his own clothes. He wasn’t ashamed to be naked, more ashamed to have lost to one of his own men. Sitting down he brushed his hair away from his sweaty forehead, silently thanking whoever that the other’s had left.
“Alright, kid.” He grunted, leaning forward a bit. “Go again?”
His eyes had welled up glassy and they fluttered at the touch – he tried to pretend his panic was the reason for both, then decided it didn’t matter. “San Diego, on the-” his voice caught strangely and he made a sound that was trying to be a laugh, shaking a little. “Ha- the fuckin’ Pacific, that’s what they named the beach too, only an ocean away, right?”
The sun had shifted just enough to skate over the edge of Hoosier’s cheek, glowing in the rim of one eye, and when Wade paused long enough to breathe fully somehow it clicked the gears in his mind further into place.
“A fancy kinda place,” he murmured, shoulders slumping from the sudden lack of adrenaline. “On-site, since they work hotels. Crystal Pier. It’s nice,” he added, voice pitching up just barely.
"San Di-ae-go." It was repeated slowly - quietly, as if he might disturb someone sleeping. The truth wasn't far off; he didn't want to interrupt Wade's answer. It was nice to chew over the name regardless, hear it in such an ill-fitting accent. "The Golden State." Enough to distract Hoosier from those subtle movements; the shine in the Corpsman's gaze and the flicker of his eyelids.
Precious. Worth holding still for, Bill's head tilting just slightly at he felt the heat against his eye. Exposing his neck, letting new shadows cast themselves over his skin.
"Big hotels?" Hoosier pushed, drawl intent on soothing, "Fancy high-rise types?" He lent his face in a little closer. The weight pinning Wade's shoulders felt like overkill now, keeping his tired body upright rather than close. "If I looked real hard, could I see 'em from here, 'cross the ocean?"
A good SEND-OFF at least; "YEAH , like the electric chair. "
Indie RP muse from The Pacific Written by GABE (Promo by the lovely LUCKY)
will get to memes and starters and such tomorrow, got work to do - but I haven’t forgotten this time!
“He WANTED to save the world, but he wasn’t STRONG ENOUGH.”
Indie PFC Robert Leckie Written by Lucky
The sudden contact startled Wade more than the pain and his expression flickered, trembling between confusion and something strangely vulnerable, blinking rapidly but managing to meet Bill’s gaze. In his line of work being this close usually meant someone was dying – he half-expected to feel blood welling up between his fingers, still clinging like a vice to the other soldier’s jacket – and the dissonance was making his head hurt.
For all Wade knew about preventing panic in patients there wasn’t much left over for himself, and he did what he was told with unsettling difficulty, drawing ragged breaths, trying to keep his eyes fixed steady. “Ask me a question,” he rasped, remembering something about that being important. “Somethin’ simple. Keep talking.” A thin line trickled from where he had bit his lip too hard, brighter red than the dull splatters on his face.
Wade seemed shocked Hoosier was still there. As if he should be crumbling, dissolving into flames for getting too close to a heat source. It wasn't something Hoosier understood; the Marines had taught him how to care for a damaged machinegun. They'd never expressed any concern with how to care for damaged people.
Even in the worst disharmony - and war was just that, chaos - a balance could be found. The Corpsman gave the instructions - despite his chest shuddering to draw in breath, obeying the words of a Private - and Hoosier would follow. Not without his own sweetness, however; Bill's thumb brushing carefully over the man's lips after he spoke. Gently wiping away that trickle of crimson, expression softening into something akin to worry.
"Where y'from, sweetheart?" The pet name wasn't harsh like before, he meant it. "What kinda place your folks live in?"