Our Bruised Bodies | Bradley Bradshaw

ACT FOUR - PART TWENTY-THREE

Cheers!

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"I've heard congratulations are in order and not just due to your promotion." Admiral Peterson mentioned, sipping from his cup of coffee while standing by the window, watching the recruits through the blinds on the tarmac, his own son easily found in the crowd of pilots. A cocky smile on his lips, while his eyes linger for a moment too long on his superior officer, who gave him a disapproving glance for it. Witnessing it all, Andrew Peterson's hold tightened around his cup of coffee.

"Oh yes. It was a private affair, just the closest family. We didn't want much attention on us, especially after my last wedding." Grace admitted, not looking up from the file she was reading, only to scribble down some notes ever now and again. She had to pick out the new recruits for the next Top Gun class after all from the suggestions that have reached her from Admirals and Captains all across the world.

"Your father likes your new husband better than the last one?" That question had Grace glance up, her pen stilled, only to find Peterson's eyes on the group of students outside. His knuckles turning white from the grip he had around his cup of coffee.

Peterson's visit was unannounced, Grace guessed that he simply wanted to have a chat and see if the younger aviator has already taken her choice when he was already around for his son's approaching graduation from Top Gun, and that was most likely the case too, but Grace also noticed that there was something else on the Admiral's mind too, something of a more private nature.

"He does." Grace allowed, her voice unweavery and strong, which had Peterson nod to himself for a moment absentminded, before her words registered with him, which had the Admiral turn around to face the soon to be Captain.

"Please sit." The younger Navy officer said, while she gestured with the pen held in her and towards the chair in front of her office desk. She felt like it would be better to be seated for what was about to be discussed. For she couldn't be sure concerning the topic, but by having an educated guess, the topics were rather narrowed down anyways.

"Do you feel what is about to be discussed is easier to stomach when seated?" Admiral Peterson questioned her, while Grace put her pen down after closing the file, only to lean back in her chair.

"I tend to think that a certain degree of formality makes some situations less awkward at times, yes." Grace admitted, simply preferring to be seated, for it gives another vibe, then her being seated and someone else pacing up and down her office, like a wild animal suddenly caged for the very first time. It let her breath easier.

"So, you know?" The Admiral asked, before he added a further explanation to his question, without even giving Grace a change to answer. "About my son's ... preferences."

It was bold of him to assume. To just throw it out there like that, but assuming that Grace didn't notice what was going on right underneath her nose would be more insulting than to accusing Grace of knowing about something and just continuously forgetting to report it, for it would only harm good people, who didn't deserve to be treated like dirt, which they surely would be.

"Admiral." The youngest Kazansky still tried, attempted to play innocent, unknowing, even though there was no real use to it, for it was clear to Admiral Peterson as much as it was clear to Grace that Lincoln "Fox" Peterson was as gay as they get.

"Andrew, call me Andrew." Peterson said with an exhausted sign, his hand coming up to rub over his forehead for a moment. "I like to think of us as allies and friends and we're here discussing my son's troublesome orientations." That was surely one way to put it.