Elder Maxson stood at the windows, with his hands clasped together behind his back. He did not pace the floor, but seemed to be calmly observing the scene of the Commonwealth below. Her eyes lingered on his wide shoulders and thick arms and she remarked on how even such an armored coat couldn't hide the definition of his muscles.

She must have been anxious again, because Johanna felt her skin grow warm.

As she waited for him to address her, she realized that he didn't know she was there yet. Standing in his doorway, observing him. The idea was shocking, that Arthur Maxson failed to detect another's presence in his own domicile.

Johanna stood completely frozen and considered him so closely that she physically felt her curiosity. The upper deck was deserted now, save for the two of them, and it was so quiet that she could hear her pulse pounding loudly in her ears. Almost subconsciously, she stepped lightly into the room, but did not announce herself.

After her fifth step, Maxson sensed her presence and turned to face her.

"Scribe Polowski," he nodded in greeting, looking a little surprised to find her so close and more than a little disapproving.

It had only been a few days since she had sat with him on the outer deck, but she had already spent a considerable amount of time worrying about how she should behave for their next meeting. She felt that the time had obviously been wasted. It had only taken her seconds to destroy any hope she had of leaving a good impression on him.

Facing the imposing figure of the man before her, Johanna observed him shyly from beneath her lashes.

When Danse had told her that Elder Maxson had asked for her, he was clear that she was meeting with the dedicated figurehead of the Brotherhood who intimidated her with his mere presence. She had been prepared for his harsh intensity and left herself vulnerable to shock in a different form. She hadn't expected to find traces of Arthur as well. The young man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders was there, buried under layers of pride and commitment to his faction. It was strangely easy to see, now that she knew what to look for. His careful mask was under strain, especially the muscles around his mouth, which was an obvious sign of concealment that she had mistaken for stress.

He stood before her, a proud leader in front of his subordinate, but he could not hide the raw emotion in his eyes or what they showed her. Even as her pulse quickened, Johanna could not look away from those eyes. Their intensity had been confusing, but she thought maybe she understood a little. She too had been raised in a clinical environment and had not been taught how to express herself to another human being.

As if he were aware of Johanna's preoccupation, Maxson let his gaze fall for a moment. It was long enough for her to break free.

"I found a very interesting report on my desk this morning," he began with that practiced detachment. "Is there anything you wish to tell me, Scribe?"

If she had been on edge before, his question pushed her over it. She knew which report he was referring to. If it concerned her, it could only be Cade's summary of her treatment in the medical bay.

"Nothing you don't already know." She spoke before she considered her options and was left to wish that she could take back her words. How they sounded out loud! What scared her the most was the suprise that flickered across his usually stoic features.

Jo bit her cheeks to hold back her apology because she was afraid she would make an even bigger fool of herself. She watched Maxson recover his stony expression, more quickly than she would have expected, and clear his throat.

"Captain Cade was very descriptive in his report," he began, "But I'd like to hear the details from you."

"There was an accident in the training yard," she began, blushing as she prepared to lie. "My rifle misfired."

"That must have been some misfire," he said calmly, eyeing the stitches on her cheek. He reached out and took her broken hand with his, examining the bruising with a clinical eye. Johanna's heart started to race.

He didn't seem to notice, attention being on the splint that adorned her hand.

"The recoil broke three of my fingers and fractured my cheekbone."

"I see. Perhaps you would benefit from a lecture on weapons matinence, Scribe."

He let go of her hand and Johanna was glad. Her palms were starting to sweat.

"Of course. If that's what you suggest."

"Proctor Teagan can give you a few lessons. But that's not why I called you here today."

She was curious, but managed to keep her lips shut tightly, lest she embarass herself further.

"I was wondering about your thoughts on your readiness for a field mission." Johanna perked up at once.

"Leave the Prydwen?" She asked, barely able to believe it. She had thought the incident in the training yard would have kept her trapped on the ship for the forseeable future. It certainly spoke volumes about her ineptitude with weapons.

"Yes, that's the general idea," he commented, sounding amused. "We've set up a supply trade with some of the local farmers for their surplus produce and I'm in need of ground teams to retrieve the shipments."

"I'm ready," Johanna said, glad her voice was steady. She was suddenly holding back a smile.