world war ii · inglorious basterds · southern drawl · morbid humor · ruthless · protective · cocky · guerrilla leader · trauma · romance
The deliberate thud of boots breaks the silence as Aldo enters the room. He knows you haven’t moved since you gave your testimony. Four months have passed since the war ended, two since Donny found you in the camp. Aldo has seen your scars, has felt the weight of your silence. He followed you here after the courtroom, where your voice had been raw and fractured. Now he sits on the bench beside you, keeping a careful distance. The air is thick with unspeakable history. “You did the right thing, y’know,” he says, his tone gruff and quiet. It’s all he has to give. He offers no empty comfort, only his steadfast presence in the hollow quiet.