"I can't believe this," she whispers, before the reality of the situation finally strikes.

Panic suffuses her vision.

"Ju-just a minute!" she stutters, and her voice sounds tiny and panicked like the scream of a rabbit, she thinks, and it is only the feeling of his hands on her face again (gentle this time, don't have to be firm, she knows he can be, it says) that drag her out of the rapid spiral of terror.

"Shh," he whispers, though she hasn't made a sound. She feels like whimpering as she loses him again (so short a time, it could never be long enough, she's convinced of that) and suddenly his hands are working in reverse, tugging up cloth and closing the buttons still left to close. "This isn't going to do," he says, voice even and quiet.

How could he be so calm?

"My jacket's on the chair," she answers, and he smiles while she gapes, stunned at how easily she is tugged along, the subterfuge becoming second nature. What is he, she thinks, frozen in fascination, this thing, this chameleon creature? She wants nothing more than the taste of his mouth, and she could almost forget the hurry (almost) but he kisses her back and oh, damn him for waiting this long when she must pull away but, oh, oh my…

He follows her to her feet, arm tight around her lower back and holding her close and he's laughing into her mouth even while she's dizzy with the nearness of him. He's crazy, she thinks, oh god, I've never had so much fun, I could lose my job, this is terrible, this is wonderful! She tugs at her skirt and he releases her long enough to right his own clothing, tugging up his pants, though he doesn't let her go, not her mouth, even as he backs up and tugs her forward. He opens the door, the closet door of all things, she thinks, and she growls in exasperation even as he laughs into her mouth again, infinitely amused.

"You've got to be quiet," she whispers, and shoves him, laughing and stumbling into old coats, but his hands drag her in with him and she squeaks as they wander into unfamiliar places as though they're supposed to be there, and she thinks she rather likes it...

"Don't forget the jacket, pet," he whispers to her and she snaps at his lips. "Ah, bad girl."

"Infuriating," she mutters, and shuts the closet door, darting to her desk and dragging her jacket on, buttoning it shut. There is a small hand mirror in her drawer; she tugs it out quickly and sets it on her desk. Makeup wipes, god she hated going without her makeup, but her face was a mess! Mouth all a smear and the mascara and liner had bled into dark circles all around her eyes, just terrible! It would take… just… another minute, there, she didn't look so bad, just bare, she hated bare. The bun would have to go, it was already in tatters. She pulls it down and combs it through with her fingers. Her eyes are red, and she knows what she looks like. She looks young and vulnerable and there is too much chest showing at the collar of her jacket, but she can use this to her advantage. She's done it before…

She hates playing this part, but it is a part that she is familiar with.

She rushes to the door finally, trying to widen her eyes and look innocent of all wrongdoing, like she was indulging in nothing guiltier than a crying jag, a silly, womanly breakdown.

"I'm so sorry," she says, as she opens the door, and at first does not meet his eyes, as though she is embarrassed to. When she does it is tentative, flickering, and she takes in the sight of pale hair and eyes.

"I hope I'm not… interrupting." He seems polite almost to the point of contrivance, prep school fodder, she thinks, voice cultured and ultimately lackluster. She gives a discreet sniff, as though it must be done but she hates to do it in front of him, and so far he does not seem suspicious. That's good.

"I hope that you'll forgive me… I've received some upsetting news regarding a family member."

"I could come back later."

"No, that would be impolite of me. I can't let my emotions get the better of me."

There is a rustle, a quiet chuffing strangely like muffled laughter, a thump, and he blinks, glancing toward the closet.

"What was that?"

Her face is perfectly impassive.

"I didn't hear anything."

"Maybe from next door or something."

"The wall's are a little thin," she agrees quietly. "What can I do to help you?"

"I'm guessing you're Dr. Quinzel, right?"

She nods.

"Well, then, I'm at the right place. The Lieutenant-Colonel sent me here… I just arrived."

She holds in the sigh. Another new patient. She gives him a cursory glance, no visible injuries. If he was unfit for service due to mental illness, why had he not simply been discharged? She doesn't have time to find out.

"I'm sorry…" she trails off meaningfully.

"Oh… My name's Whitney Court.. uh… Corporal Court, I mean, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am."

She really shouldn't be so short with him, but he'd come at such an inconvenient time...

"I'm sorry, Corporal, but I was just getting ready to go to lunch."

"Yes, ma'am, I was afraid I wouldn't catch you actually. "

"Well, you did," she does not have to feign the exhaustion in her voice. "Go visit the nurse's station at the end of the hallway, they'll tell you when I have an available appointment."

"Yes ma'am," he nods, and turns on his heel to leave.

The click of the latch closing is soon followed by another opening, and suddenly she is taken by a whirlwind of thin, strong arms and quiet laughter.

"What is wrong with you!? You're going to get me fired," she hisses, stumbling in the manic embrace, but she can't help the giggle that is torn from her throat in return, though he catches it with his mouth a moment later.

"Can't do that," he says when he finally lets her breathe. This close, his eyes glitter when he smiles, she's certain it's more than just her imagination, and she wonders what has taken her so long to allow herself to do this… He had been right about this all along, hadn't he?

"Good. Do you finally realize that I'm only trying to help you?"

"Oh, I've always known that, darling." She loves the feeling of his hands in her hair, she thinks, stroking and combing, maybe even pulling a little bit… he smiles as though he knows exactly where her thoughts are going, and she blushes furiously. "But I've given you a reason to help me, now haven't I?"

Oh, had he ever, she thinks, and laughs, and her shoulders are trembling as she raises a hand. She wants him, she thinks, wants him forever, wants him always, she could go a lifetime and never tire of his face.

She reaches for his lips and he nips at her fingertips while her own jaw chatters, but his arms are so steady and still and strong around her as he finally kisses one.

"You've got to get me out of here, Harley."