Mildred Froc growled at herself in the gilt mirror as she shrugged off her formal jacket. The waistcoat was next, the hand sewn, extreamly expensive item of clothing thrown haphazardly towards a rich gilted chaise longue at the foot of a ridiculously huge bed. Well, Froc had often rationalised in the privacy of her own mind, rank often came with its own privilages...who was she to argue?
Still. She could have done without the mirrors and their horribly truthful reflections. Time - the bastard - had been un-necissarily kind to her when all was said and done. She still had comparatively smooth skin, though her eyes wrinkled in the corners and her mouth showed the signs of years of barking orders and her hair was a smooth, regimented grey...
She shaved with a blunt razor out of habit now, going through the useless motions without really being aware of what she was doing, her mind focused on the events of the day...and Gracious Nuggan what events they were. She huffed a heavy sigh, rinsing off the blade in the once fresh water before towling off the last of the foam. When she looked up again she froze instantly at the reflection facing her.
"Anyone watching you would notice you weren't meetin' your own gaze in the mirror" A familiar voice, one that had growled at her so many years ago, commanding her to survive, filtered into the gilt and marble room that made up General Froc's quaters, "now, I can't help but wonder why. When those eyes of yours have seen through more shit than most men have been able to think up...sir"
"Drop the 'sir', Jackrum" Froc murmured, watching as Jackrum pushed away from where he was leaning against the doorframe, "we both know that's a lie." She sighed, looking down as Jackrums boots - shined up so brightly they threatened to blind anyone who looked too long - clicked against the tiles, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"And here was me, your poor ol' sarge, expecting a warm welcome." Jackrum returned, sarcasm loading his voice. Mildred resisted the urge to look up, even when she felt the front of Jackrums jacket brush against her back, able to feel it through the thin fabric of her shirt. Jackrums silences were far too loud and Froc caved quickly.
"They asked me to pass judgement on those girl-wome-soldiers today." She stammered, "your little lads, Jackrum."
"Yes?" Jackrum nudged her, forcing her to look up, into the mirror and meet his gaze. That gaze. The gaze of a shrewd, calculating bastard...who would probably crawl over broken glass to make sure all of his little lads were alright. No matter what their age were.
"You think I was the best person for the job?" She asked, her lip curling upwards. Jackrum sighed heavily, reaching out at an odd angle to pat her cheek,
"Still got no self confidence, lad?" He asked, "don't think you were merciful enough to my little lads? Don't think you done right by them?" Froc sniffed, leaning forward with one hand either side of the basin, still managing to not meet her own gaze.
"Perhaps." She replied, "A life in the army...it's not exactly the most...forgiving of careers" One of Froc's hands unconsiously left the basin side, running over the scar that had been left all those years ago...now criss crossed with so very many others. "What if I haven't made the right choice?" She whispered Jackrums eyes flickered downwards, noting the gesture, before a huge grin blossomed, white teeth seeming to shine too bright in such a red face
"Think you'd still be alive to wonder, if you hadn't?" He asked, rough voice rich with surpressed laughter. "You'd have cacked your pants before makin' the wrong choice, sir, pardon the phrase, and that's because of dear ol' Jackrum standin' behind you like the devil himself." The grin hadn't moved away but Jackrums eyes had become sharper, just the tiniest bit meaner and Mildred found herself incapable of surpressing a shiver. Jackrum nodded as if she had passed some sort of test before turning away. Froc watched in the mirror until the Sergeant reached the doorway before calling out,
"Sir!" Jackrum froze at her call. Mildred hadn't meant for her voice to come out that high, that desperate or that...feminine. Jackrum turned slowly, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and the General turned to face the Sarge, her Sarge, dithering a little on the spot before making up her mind. It took two strides for Mildred to reach him, standing on tiptoe she could just about kiss his cheek, pushing a large pouch into his hand as she whispered - "Good luck in Scritz, Jackrum, I hope you find what you want" - before pulling away and becoming the straight spined, stiff upper lipped General once again. Froc saluted sharply, ignoring the blush on her...his cheeks as Jackrum smirked at him, winking before turning away, closing the door quietly behind him. General Froc went back to the basin to finish shaving...this time he could actually meet his own gaze.