The Shirt
"Sorry. As Mason would say we're kinda bare bones here at the moment." He handed over one of his shirts.
"That's okay. I'm not picky. Honestly anything is better than this." She shrugged off her WWI jacket and threw the hat on her cot. "I would say it's officially the most uncomfortable costume yet but I don't know if it was the fact that I was there a week or the company I was keeping."
Wyatt turned to leave the room as she reached for the buttons on her blouse. He ducked outside and was about to close the door when she chirps.
"So how's the food here?" She pulled the shirtwaist from her skirt and chucked the hateful scratchy wool garment on the floor. "You find any MRE's hiding in the dust when you showed up?"
A grin spread over his face as he crossed his arms, leaned against the wall and looked down the hallway. "MRE's? Since when are you up on military lingo?"
Lucy rolled her eyes at the snark. "Since I had to live off them. If I ever have to see corned beef again it'll be too soon." His shirt is soft against her skin, a comforting balm against the last few hours of mayhem.
He chuckled. "You're in luck. We're a little more sophisticated than a French battlefield despite the meager digs. Fresh fruit, eggs and even non-canned meat."
"Well now I just feel spoiled." She walks outside to show off the shirt and gives a little spin. "Well?"
He made a face and scrunched his nose. "I guess this means I'll be doing laundry twice as often for the foreseeable future."
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "You know I could always see if I can borrow something from Jiya…"
Slowly she moved to walk past him but his hands settled on her hips to hold her still. Warm and steady she can feel his fingers through the shirt. He gives a gentle squeeze and leans close, blue eyes bright in the shadowed hall, a smile on his lips.
"I didn't say I didn't like it."