Tiny bit. Too danged busy working, listen to everybody whining whinging and complaining about how God, the Government, the Corporations, and their mother are conspiring to make their life miserable, ergo they must now make my life miserable. Nine bloody hours. Six days.
...and yet on the Seventh Day I can't write a dadblasted thing. But if I ever had the right emotional environment to be writing this fic, it is now. #$^@#^ my life...
Quote:
Burkhart saluted, then turned toward the door. Her professional facade
hid the heart of fear racing in her chest. Not a word else was said,
though she heard Lumumba's footsteps behind her. The taller man caught
up with her.
It wasn't until the two were out of Wilkes' earshot that he spoke.
"People usually ask."
Elle looked at Lumumba, quizzical.
"Normal people ask why Wilkes has that smile on all the time." Lumumba
seemed more relaxed, but did not look at Elle. "Aren't you curious?"
"It's a combat injury." Burkhart replied.
"That it is." Lumumba smiled warmly back, something he did not do in
private. "Maybe we'll talk about it more sometime."
So your warm and friendly side is just an act. Elle did not
accuse him aloud. Everyone friendly she'd met in the Pit had been merely
acting the part.
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