playerapocalypse:
He gave small almost inward smile at her comment. “Sorry, force of habit.” He said shortly. He cleared his throat before saying “Thank you ma-Solstice. Solstice.” He grabbed it and gave it a quick glance over deciding to read it in detail later.
Turning back to the woman in front of him he nodded and gave a slight shrug. “More often than not. I am. And you’re English.” He worded it as more of a statement than question. “Well I hope you don’t hold that against me.” He was cautious talking to her. He got the feeling that she didn’t trust him. Not that he blamed her of course, his red cursor wasn’t something he was necessarily happy of. But something he’d always defend. He tried to continue the conversation, “how did you know Irishmen” He asked intrigued.
Solstice let out a small huff of amusement, clearly not in any way ready to hold his nationality against him. She’d only ever known the company of very people who hailed from Ireland, people who were always ready to enlighten her of better things to do than mope. That and her favorite professor in anatomy class had been a man from Cork who she had plenty of interesting tales to share about. Those were all things from the real world - things she didn’t really talk about.
But if it wasn’t Leo or David there weren’t many fellow UKers she could relate to, or many people in general, really. Apocalypse reminded her of something from the world outside. And she was bored and tired, enough so a little bit of a story wouldn’t hurt. “Oh, you lot are all over England too, y’know?” She grinned. “My first anatomy professor was a real serious bloke from Cork, super brilliant though. Mostly I worked with quite a few. There was this one pilot who told crazy stories about his Irish mum and family, especially after a beer or two. I cried laughing almost each time. I could never get any work done when he visited the hospital.”
The side of his mouth twitched almost into a smile, but with a trained resolve he kept his face still. “He sounds like a good man. Did you enjoy studying his anatomy?” He cleared his throat, “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant his anatomy class. But no judgment.” He finished awkwardly scratching his neck. At the final comment he actually smiled, it wasn’t a large toothy grin, rather a small, closed lip smile. But he remembered the stories men would tell on the battlefield and in hospitals. He recalled his own childhood and he couldn’t help the small fond smile. “I have to admit I miss those stories. So you worked in the hospital. Before all this?”
