It was no secret that Lieutenant Havoc liked women. It was his tragic achilles-esque weakness, his constant distraction in the pastime of casual romance, which often kept him negligent from his military duties, or from anything else for that matter. He loved spending hours in trendy clubs, flirting, securing new catches, feeling the excitement of each new lady of interest. He loved the way they walked, the way they dressed, the way they flirted and teased, and even the way they elegantly drank, giving him their best flirtatious glances as he serenaded them with his best and most perfectly rehearsed lines.
This is probably why he had so much trouble when he met Rose. Immediately attracted to her undefinable strangely mixed spirit of shy honesty and subtle strength, he had to remind himself that she was too young for any of his usual hangouts. He had to rethink his entire lifestyle before working up the nerve to ask her out; considering the career; considering the smoking; considering the baby. (It struck him as a cruel irony that she was old enough to be a mother, yet not old enough to drink) They finally worked out an odd schedule, that was unorthodox, but fit just the same. He grew used to seeing his favorite bars less and less, and carrying the baby on their dates more and more, as well as gentle slapping on the wrist everytime he instinctively reached for his cigarettes, which almost made him regret the whole thing, until staring into her eyes overcame his momentary nicotine impulse.
He once thought he loved the little moments when his date would sip away her sobriety, and blushing with intoxication, lean against him, slurringly declaring that she 'just might have fallen in love'. Now, she was sitting there across the table from him, staring across her strawberry milkshake and smiling- honestly smiling- all her consiousness undisturbed. Without any pretense, and without any taint. Without all the silly games, and pickup lines, and coyness and lies and hidden agendas, there she was- smiling. And he had no words.
He'd been teased about it, and advised against it. He'd been called 'Mister Mom', and 'Cradle Robber' in jest by his friends. He'd been warned about what such a relationship might do to his military career- dating a child, and what's more, a child who had a child- surely he would be happy with another woman.
Rose was not a child, and she was not 'another woman'; she was just Rose, and although he wasn't sure what to call the feeling he felt when she smiled at him, he knew it was perfect.