Lt. Benjamin is well known, and for good reason. Not only was her grandfather a respected admiral himself but she's proven herself to be one of the best fighter pilots of her time.
When she entered the Navy she had one rule. No fighter pilots! She...
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Tucker exited the dining hall, making a sharp right down the hall. She could feel a presence approaching her from behind. She prayed it wasn't a certain someone.
"So, please, enlighten me. What is up with you and Rooster?" Hangman spoke out as he walked up to Tucker. She rolled her eyes, the last person she wanted to see today was standing next to her.
She was walking to one of her training drills that had been scheduled for after lunch.
"I like him. What more do you need to know?" she asked. She looked up to Hangman who looked shocked.
"What's in it for you?" he asked. He didn't believe Rooster was able to score a girl like here.
"I mean I could tell you the sex is great, and not to mention his-" she began but Hangman had cut her off.
"Please. I don't care about that" he quickly countered. Though he had been asking for it with the question.
"I'd really like a steak dinner next week for our date so if you could maybe up the bets that would be nice" Tucker joked. Bradley had explained how Hangman had kept betting money on the two.
The first round of beers was always on Hangman.
"But, really. Keep it up. I've been enjoying the beers you so thoughtful pay for each time"
Tucker smirked at Hangman before walking towards the exit of the building. He just stood in the hallway, frozen to his spot.
"Don't tell me she's got you too now?" Coyote asked, slapping his hand on Hangman's right shoulder. The two watched her walk out of the building.
"Nah, man. She's got her eyes on one man. And it is most definitely not me" he muttered to Coyote who was confused as to what the conversation was between the two.
The following Friday Bradley and Tucker sat in a booth in the corner of a local restaurant. Wasn't fancy or special but it got the two off base and away from the Hangman's of the Navy.
"So, how much did you win in bets this week?" Tucker asked, leaning forward on the table. Bradley who sat across from her, smirked as he pulled out a wade of money, held together by a rubber band.
"Two tens, a five and twelve singles" he smiled. Tucker couldn't help but grin herself.
"And how much has he offered for you to shave the stache?" Tucker asked. The waitress dropped off the two freshly poured beers. The glass was chilled and the foam slowly dripped down the side.
