Hector woke up with a crick in his neck and a hollow spot in his stomach. A glance at the clock told him it was after lunch. Frowning, he changed into his standard white tee and blue overshirt and headed toward the commissary. It was deserted in the main room so he walked into the kitchen to see if anyone was still on shift. A heavily muscled black man greeted him.
"Hey, Wreck, ain't seen ya around. What can I get ya to remove that frown?"
The sailor grinned sheepishly. "Hey, Block. I slept through lunch. Got anything I can make a sandwich out of?"
"I got just the thing, to make a meal fit for a king!" The poetical man answered. He grabbed a few different items and threw together a rather large sandwich. Topping it off with a pickle and an olive, he served it to his friend with a flourish. "Now, sit down and take a bite, tell me 'bout your plans tonight."
Wreck hopped up on a clean counter and began to eat as the big man continued to clean the kitchen. Halfway though the meal, he spoke. "My cousin is coming in tonight. Haven't seen her in a year or so."
Block nodded thoughtfully. "Gonna take her out or just hang about?"
The sailor shrugged. "Hadn't gotten that far. Still gotta see Doc and then go from there. I can go off base but I don't know that I want to." He turned his attention back to the sandwich.
Keeping a close eye on the other man, the chef whistled a little tune as he finished wiping down the stove and began pulling things for the evening meal. He didn't miss the pauses where Wreck would stare off into space thinking and suddenly shake it off. It wasn't like the sailor to be introspective. Usually, he was bouncing off the walls, one-liners flying fast and furious. It was a change. "I'll make you a deal. I'll make you a meal."
"What's the catch?" A dark eyebrow raised over a blue eye in surprise.
"My Granny Hinton, she was wise, could see the story behind our eyes. When you need to talk, come see me and we'll take a walk." The big man crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. He could see the gears turning as the sailor came to decision.
"Make it Chicken Cordon Bleu and you've got it." There it was. The trademark lopsided grin.
"Dinner at eight, I'll bring you two plates."
Hopping down, Wreck set his dish in the sink and shook hands with his friend. "Thanks, big guy. I gotta bail. Doc won't let me re-up for quals until I'm at 85." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Some of these babies just don't want to get better." He walked out whistling the same tune the big man had begun.
Block just smiled and began to sing in a rich baritone "I Dare You to Move."