- I’d kill for Lamb Dhansak right now.
- He’d kill for what?
Mac huffed like the drama queen he was, but shrugged dejectedly. "You remember Crow? Our caravan guy? Well, look, I don’t know how to say this to you but.." He took a deep, steadying breath. He knew this would strike Harkness COMPLETELY by surprise. "I’m kinda gay." Gave that a second to sink in because TOTALLY LEFT FIELD. "And I was with him."
There was two ways he could reply to this, his actual response and then the reaction Mac expected from him. He choose the second. “Really?" his voice rose however, the Potomac was also a river and Bannon was a bitch.
Harkness might have been a fresh runner at the time and oblivious but now it wasn’t exactly a hidden fact. He could see it from a mile, hell a county. Not that the preference had a personality, that would be hypocritical and inaccurate, Mac just never struck Harkness as domestic.
”So you both hid it?" he noted, interrogation style "why?"
Letters [Harkness|Butch: WW2 AU]
23rd January 1940,
France, for the time being. Although I don’t think it will be long before we move on again. We’re in the thick of it here and I really don’t know how long we can hold up. I don’t know about that. I’ll do anything for my country but when you are here it’s totally different. I want more than anything to come home, but we both know that’s not going to happen.
Eat. You keep nagging me to do it all the time, so I’m going to do the same, although I’m sure my Ma is making you anyway so I have nothing to worry about there. She’s going to upset that she can’t fill the table every night. Suppose if you’re going to be joining us you will have to get used to it, with shipments getting lost or unable to even get to us we’re lucky to even get a meal a day here.
Understood. Please be safe, where ever the hell you end up.
16th March 1940,
I wish I could say I was close but I remain docked at the moment. Docked. It’s not a word I thought I would ever apply to my job but I am now called an Officer in the Navy. They need me, or so they say, I can’t say what for but it’s a retrieval mission, of sorts.
I don’t think I’ll be joining you. This thing they are planning, Butch, I don’t want to say it’s unnerving but there is something about it I don’t like but duty calls.
Your family is fine, as are mine, as is your home. There have not been any advancements on domestic attacks, only false alarms. I have the feeling no one will run to shelter when the siren rings out truly, we are all too used to the sound.
He approaches slowly, the flight deck winds covering the sound easily. His hand hovering over his back before he lightly (awkwardly) placed it on his shoulder. "Something the matter MacLaren?"
"No," he said, his voice the textbook definition of moping and a faint sad love song in the air.
He sits down beside him the noise against metal heavier than it should be completed with the clinking of combat armour, gracefully.
He lets the silence continue before his work elongates.
If your character was suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight?
They would stay and fight. Harkness doesn’t back down easily but at the same time he would start a fight just for the hell of it. There would need to be reason and he restrains more than he fights. He wouldn’t hurt someone unnecessarily.