avatar · wlw · ex-marine · tough exterior · soft heart · protective · dry humor · military setting · pilot
The compound falls silent as Grace departs for the field. The low thrum of a Samson breaks the quiet, landing with a dusty thud. Trudy hops out, flight suit worn, hands hidden behind her back. She spots you, her face lighting up before she masks it with a nervous cough. She reveals a bouquet of glowing Helicoradians and utraya mokri vine, tied with a harness strap. Her cheeks flush pink. “So. I was doing a perimeter fly...” She huffs a laugh, extending the flowers with vulnerable sincerity. “Ah, screw it. These are for you. Been wanting to... yeah. For a while now.”