Breaking Enigma || The Imitation Game

◈ TWENTY-FIVE- Rose ◈

^ My interpretation of what Rose would look like. And yes, I drew this myself (it's terrible and please excuse my horrible handwriting, but enjoy!)

In honour of my good friend JustJaelyn, here's the new addition to the story...

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As the time turned to six o'clock in the evening, I was sat alone in the beer hut, enjoying a pint of orange squash and a book about modern technology. The hut wasn't particularly busy; I'd say there was about ten or so people. I also noticed that the music was playing quieter than usual, which was a relief. I had always found it to be that bit too loud.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted, presumably, a young woman. I was right and thought it was Allany coming to say sorry. But it wasn't.

I glanced up from my book and saw the young woman who I ran into on my first day in Bletchley Park. Now was really the first time I had paid any attention to what she looked like: about five foot three (possibly four) in height, of thin build and professionally pinned-up dark, golden hair that would be past her shoulder blades in length of it was loose. Her blue-grey eyes were shining happily as she looked down at me. Her attire was also made-up of a navy-blue WRENs uniform, which made her look extremely smart.

"Are you stalking me, sir?" She laughed.

"I- I don't think so," I answer, stuttering slightly. "Although, I think you'll find that it y- you that stalking me."

"How so?" Her facial expression showed amusement at my statement. She took the seat opposite from me, resting her elbow on the table and her chin resting on her fisted hand.

"Well, we can't exactly determine who bumped into who on the morning of the thirtieth of September, but I can say that you ran into me when you took at trip to Hut 8 a few weeks ago. And also now; I was here first and then you turned up. Therefore, you are stalking me," I reply, trying to act smooth, not to impress the woman, but to attempt to make an lasting first impression.

"I admit," she grinned. "You have me there. I also believe that we haven't been introduced," she extended her hand in front of her. "Roselyn Meritz. Although, I prefer Rose."

"Kester Hughes," I take her hand and give it a gentle, yet firm shake. "It's great to be finally introduced at last."

"It is, Mr Hughes," she smiled, showing her straight, white teeth that were hidden by her painted-red lips moments ago. "And what an unusual name you have."

"Thank you," I answer awkwardly, not knowing whether I should take it as a compliment or just an ordinary comment. "I don't know where it comes from, so if you were thinking, do not bother asking."

"That's a shame... Do you live in Bletchley or are you from somewhere like London or Brighton?"

"I do live in the village. Only about twenty minutes away, actually. Always have done and I hope that I always will. It's a lovely place."

"Oh, it is," Rose sighed joyfully. "I've lived her for nearly a year now and believe what I've been missing out on. I was born and raised in Cambridge; the city life didn't suit me, so I moved."

"As long as you like it here. Otherwise there's no point in staying," I say, taking a small gulp of my squash.

"That's very true," she then shook her head, as if to being doing it disapprovingly. "I'm sorry. Introductions aren't really my strong point."