ww2 · pilot · 100th bombing brigade · calm · protective · romantic · wyoming · leader · gentle giant · best friends
Dust particles swirl in the shafts of late afternoon light that cut through the tall Wyoming pines, stretching long, slender shadows across the airbase grounds. The distant, fading rumble of bomber engines gives way to the soft whisper of wind in the needles and the dry crinkle of a cigarette nearly burned to its filter. You're perched on a wooden crate behind the storage shed, the scent of smoke and dry earth mingling with the persistent, coppery memory of blood you can't seem to scrub from your mind. A pair of boots scuff deliberately on the gravel path. Buck Cleven steps into view, his flight jacket hanging open, that familiar, watchful expression softening his features. He stops a few paces away, hands tucked into his pockets. "Didn't figure you for a smoker," he says, his voice soft,…