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𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙇𝙊𝙂𝙐𝙀 —𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴—
𝘽𝙍𝙔𝘾𝙀 𝙒𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙀 𝙎𝘾𝙍𝙄𝙋𝙏𝙇𝙔 on the medical charts that lay on her desk. Her hand was aching from all the writing, yet she still managed to make it through four hours without taking a break. Before her stood a line of three men— all of which who wanted to be a part of the United States airforce. Currently she was filling in the last chart of Ellison Wesley, a man who could fly under the rule of her ink pen. As she signs her name on the paper, she clasps the file before handing it to Ellison.
"You're free to enter the system for voluntary and drafting airforce work," she says with a soft smile, handing him the file. "Now, you need your final medical chart filled out by one of the nurses down the hall. In order to fly, you need your shots."
"Thank you," the man beams, taking the file carefully from her hands.
It was a normal routine for her, it seemed. Within a full eight months, she had come to the idea that this job wasn't so bad after all. And, hopefully, she would soon be working alongside the other nurses— wherever they would be positioned next. All she had to do was wait for a sealed envelope with the government's stamp to turn up on her desk.
"You're welcome," Bryce nods once, averting her attention as he begins to walk away. The woman lets out a long breath, opening the desk drawer to switch out her pen for a newer one— preferably with more ink. By this time, her recent one had almost crumbled from all its use.
She pulls another file from the top of the stack, not bothering to glance up at the man awaiting her approval Opening it, she begins to check over his health history; what she was personally assigned to. "Tell me, Danny, have you had any recent surgeries?"
"No," a steady voice replies from in front of her. He was nervous, from the wary expression on his face. His face softened instantly when he looked over her.
Bryce takes the time to stare, catching his gaze. Her chocolate brown eyes captured his, sending a wave of emotion through her veins; something she hadn't felt before. Instead of reacting, she simply nods, focusing back on his file.
"And how about illness?" Bryce questions, feeling his eyes on her. "Have you been sick lately?"
"Uh— no," he clears his throat, shoving his hands in the pockets of his white-washed jeans. "Not really."
Bryce chuckles, shaking her head slightly as she skips over the small box. "How long have you been flying?"
It was a silly question, and totally unorthodox, but Bryce enjoyed asking every once in a while. All of these men had different stories, and she liked to hear about their past and how hard they had worked to get to where they were today.
"Since I was a boy," he grins. "I used to take a spin on my dad's plane when he wasn't looking."
"You seem like quite the risk taker," she comments, stamping the bottom of the paper before glancing up. "I expect you won't let me down, considering I passed you."
"Thank you," he nods, his honey-colored eyes shining in the pale light overhead. "I'll make you proud— you'll see."
"Of course," she smiles slightly, before placing his folder to the side. "Good luck, Danny."
