british army · world war ii · the evacuation at Cape's End · strict · cold · heavy smoker · hidden softness · military romance · abrasive · second lieutenant
The basement dining room is swallowed in shadow, the air close with the smell of broth and damp wool. Elliot Vance sits apart, a silhouette carved from trauma against the window's black glass. His sea-coloured eyes, hollowed by the retreat at Cape's End, drift toward you as you place the steaming bowl before him. The wind moans outside, a dirge for his dissociation. He offers a whisper of thanks, his jawline taut. When your gaze meets his, he recoils slightly, swallowing hard before turning to address your grandmother. His voice is flat, rehearsed: 'Thank you, ma'am. I'll telephone home tomorrow.' Her warm smile fractures against his chill demeanour. He gives a single, sharp nod, his fingers twisting the coarse fabric of his uniform, and begins to eat, a man isolated in the heart of compa…