He narrows his eyes a bit. "Something black and lacy and better fitted on you," he admits, lighting the cigarette, using the rest of the match to light the candle on his nightstand.
Tess contemplates that and decides she’s not much of a fan either. Different strokes for different folks and all, but if the plan is to humiliate, then mission success, she’s turned off.
“Well, find me something like that to wear and we’ll put that image in your head instead.”
She grins, too. Could be fun, indulging like that. Wear something a little superficial, draw the eye away from the scars. That might be nice.
"You have fun asking the Admiral for that one," she tells him. But god, when was the last time she stayed the night? That's a memory worth covering up, and she nods. It's not like anyone's doing bed checks.
"Might go back to my cabin to grab some things, but I'll come back."
"Do what you have to," he assures her. He knows it's probably not a good idea because they could get caught but dammit, he hates feeling like he's doing something wrong. He's not. This isn't wrong.
He just has to repeat it more times to make it true.
Tess does not like to think of herself as someone who needs reassurance, least of all about a body that will someday rot into the drywall or get eaten by worms, but it feels good anyway. She wants to bury herself in that reassurance sometimes. She looks fine. There’s time.
“I look like a mess, but thank you,” she replies, honest, and she touches her fingers to the glass beads at her collar as he ties it on. “I always wanted to have stuff like that, actually.”
He shifts onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "The boys and me-" he starts, then hesitates and starts again, "Some of 'em came with me cuz they had no where else to go, I think. Some of 'em just wanted somethin' to do. But me? I wanted somethin' better. Not just scrapin' by, diggin' our lives from the dirt. Givin' a lady glass beads is a start."
"Sounds good," she agrees. There's something novel to this, cuddled up to sleep, something she hasn't done since winter in Boston, when the heat was cut. She closes her eyes, pressing her lips to his shoulder. "I'm a light sleeper anyway."
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"She'd turn herself into me wearin' something ridiculous again."
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She tilts her head to look up at him, grinning just a lil.
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“Well, find me something like that to wear and we’ll put that image in your head instead.”
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He hesitates, glancing to the door. "You staying the night?" Despite it, he sounds hopeful.
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"You have fun asking the Admiral for that one," she tells him. But god, when was the last time she stayed the night? That's a memory worth covering up, and she nods. It's not like anyone's doing bed checks.
"Might go back to my cabin to grab some things, but I'll come back."
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He just has to repeat it more times to make it true.
"And I ain't askin' the Admiral for nothin'."
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"Well, I'm not borrowing someone else's used lingerie from the trunk room, assuming they even stock that."
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He kisses her.
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"Why? You ain't gonna come back unless I get you pretty clothes to take off?"
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"Because we might have a million other ideas by then, and then we'll die trying to catch up on all of them."
But she does like being treated.
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"You look fine just like that," he assures her.
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“I look like a mess, but thank you,” she replies, honest, and she touches her fingers to the glass beads at her collar as he ties it on. “I always wanted to have stuff like that, actually.”
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"Yeah, I figured. Livin' like you do, having somethin' pretty just for the havin' must be rare." He trails fingers lightly along her back.
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He shifts onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "The boys and me-" he starts, then hesitates and starts again, "Some of 'em came with me cuz they had no where else to go, I think. Some of 'em just wanted somethin' to do. But me? I wanted somethin' better. Not just scrapin' by, diggin' our lives from the dirt. Givin' a lady glass beads is a start."
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“You’re a good man,” she says, quietly.
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"You sure you need shit from your cabin tonight?" is what he asks instead, loathe for her to leave, though he's exhausted.
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“No, I’m fine,” she decides.
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Logistics. Quiet bit of domesticity for the sake of convenience. But he still holds her a little tighter, letting his eyes close.
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