Harm takes a deep breath and follows the General into the breakroom. Bud still needs a refreshed cup of java, and he needs a brand-new mug himself. At least he didn't shatter one of his favorite ones. Harm steps to the side of the General and grabs one off the top shelf, where he keeps a hidden stash of cups in the back that only he can reach. He pulls down one that contains an image of the flight patch he worn on his shoulder from aboard his time on the Patrick Henry and sighs deeply.
The General raises his brow and questions, "Missing your flying days, Captain?"
Harm replies, "Actually, no Sir. I still fly in my Stearman, but I really have no desire to follow the family tradition of leaving widows and children behind. I will say that I do miss the smell of the jet fuel and the salty seas though."
Creswell shakes his head, "Only you Navy boys appreciate those smells. I prefer the scent of dirt and sweat. I'll see if I can get you out to a carrier when an investigation comes up. Let you spread your sea wings, so to speak. I have a feeling you might want to get out of the house for a little while over the next several months."
Harm auto replies, "Yes Sir, I mean No, Sir. While I would love to get out on a carrier, and maybe get away from the hormones for a bit, I want to stay rather close to home. Since Mac's pregnancy is automatically high-risk, I would prefer not to leave anything to chance."
Creswell pats him on the back, "You're braver that I give you credit for, Harm. Dodging MIGS is one thing, dodging a pregnant Marine's hormones is another altogether."
Harm groans, "I know."
Creswell smirks on his way out, ". I just wish you the best of luck, you're going to need it if this morning's display was any sign of what to expect for the future."
Harm fills both cups with piping hot java and heads back to his office. He hands Bud his, and takes a sip of his own grimacing, "Ugh! The General must have made this pot."
Bud asks, "What happened to your JAG mug, Sir?"
Harm chuckles, "Did you not hear all the commotion outside?"
Bud sheepishly replies, "Uh no. I was engrossed in the file, what happened?"
Harm chuckles, "I ran into an irate woman running late for court. As I tried to steady her, my cup decided to take a freefall."
Bud frowns, "I take it the Colonel is still angry?"
Harm nods, "Yeah. I might decide to risk asking her to lunch, that is, after I check in with her yeoman for her current disposition."
Switching topics, Bud inquires, "So, did I hear correctly that you and the Colonel are considering getting a dog?"
Harm answers, "Yeah, it was the General's suggestion. He figured that having a dog around would help tire Matthew and Trisha out so that we would have a little more energy to focus on the triplets when they get here."
Bud responds, "Wow! I wish someone had mentioned that to me when Harriet and I were expecting the twins. You know how AJ was when Jimmy first came along, he ran away because he felt neglected. When the twins first got here, neither one of the boys were happy. We could have used something to help keep them distracted. Even now, it might not be a bad idea to get a dog. It would be nice for all of them to have a furry friend to grow up with."
Harm laughs, "A piece of advice. Just don't tell Harriet that the General suggested it. I have a feeling if your wife comes in here to give him a piece of her mind right after mine did that you and I might have new orders to Iceland."
Bud shaking the thought of the frigid country away, grins, "Oh that's okay, Sir, I'll just tell her that you suggested it."
Harm rolls his eyes, "Remember you still have to work with me too!"
Bud mumbles, "Understood, Sir. So, what kind of dog do you think you will get?"
Harm shrugs his shoulders, "I'm really not sure. I was thinking maybe a Labrador or maybe an Australian Shephard. Somehow, I have a feeling Mac will want to go with an English Bulldog since it's the Marine Corps mascot. I'm already living with enough Marine wannabes; I don't need the dog against me too."
Bud chuckles, "Well there is one sure fire way to talk her out of a bulldog."
Harm quirks his brow quizzically, "What's that?"
Bud says, "Simple. Remind her that in a few months she'll be walking, or waddling to be more precise, exactly like the dog."
Harm's eyes go wide as saucers, "Are you trying to get me shot?"
Bud shakes his head in the negative, "No, Sir."
Harm exclaims, "If I suggest that, I'll be dead, Mac will be in jail for murder, and you and Harriet will end up raising nine kids."
Bud lets that sink in for a minute, "On second thought, Sir, maybe you shouldn't suggest that."
Harm grins, "Oh I see, it's fine if I'm gone just as long as you aren't stuck with raising my kids."
Bud somberly replies, "No I don't want anything to happen to you or the Colonel. But god forbid something did, I think Harriet might kill me too if we have to raise nine children. I don't think she signed up for a baseball team."
Harm shakes his head, "Let's not remind our wives about that at all. We probably should have thought about the repercussions of being godparents to all of each other's children."
Bud replies, "True, but if something ever did happen to Harriet and I, there isn't anyone I would trust raising our kids more than you and the Colonel."
Harm smiles, "Thanks Bud. Mac and I feel the same way about you and Harriet. Now, we'd better get to work before the General comes asking for a status update."
Shifting his focus back to work related matters, Bud answers in the affirmative "Aye, Aye, Sir."
