Are you not going to eat that? If not, I will! (phoenix)
@resolutevalor
Captain Peter Mitchell, U.S. Navy, looked at the last slice of pumpkin cheesecake, after him and Lieutenant Trace had nearly finished their meal at the loud interstate road house restaurant, as Mav wore a bleached white t-shirt under his naval aviator bomber jacket.
"You know what? Knock yourself out, Lieutenant." He passed the slice of cheesecake over to his dining companion, and took a deep breath. "I get up at five AM for a run, and I really don't need the potential love handles."
In textbook terminology, what they were doing was a picture of 'improper fraternization between male and female officers', but in Maverick's mind, textbooks and rulebooks had one place: in the trash where they belonged.
"I think us going up in the air tomorrow would be fun. You be my wingman, and I'll grill you on what you know." He licked his lips, and drinks from his glass of gin, having an old school glass of milk to chase it down with.
"You uh, planning to be a lifer with the Navy, Trace? I bet you have Chief of Naval Operations written all over you, with your ambition and credentials. You are literally the only female pilot here, in a locker room full of boys."
