Steve sits again for the landing, with bad grace. He's shivering under his skin. Under normal circumstances, he's usually able to take a plane trip over the sea without batting an eye, but right now everything is all wrong, and they're going to have to go beneath the waterline to search the place. In a floating tin can, with a man who neither likes nor trusts him.
If they're lucky, the security systems in this hellhole have gone offline.
He follows Tony out of the Quin, but his steps slow down as the smell and sound of the waves hit him, and when Tony speaks, if he glances back, he'll see Steve looking pale and distant, giving that harsh thousand-yard soldier's stare to something invisible in the foggy waves beyond. He licks his lower lip to respond, tastes seasalt, and answers:
"There'll be bluebirds over the White Cliffs of Dover, tomorrow, just you wait and see..." He's not a professional singer, but he can carry a tune. "There'll be love and laughter, and peace ever after, tomorrow, when the world is free."
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Date: 2018-05-31 04:15 pm (UTC)If they're lucky, the security systems in this hellhole have gone offline.
He follows Tony out of the Quin, but his steps slow down as the smell and sound of the waves hit him, and when Tony speaks, if he glances back, he'll see Steve looking pale and distant, giving that harsh thousand-yard soldier's stare to something invisible in the foggy waves beyond. He licks his lower lip to respond, tastes seasalt, and answers:
"There'll be bluebirds over the White Cliffs of Dover, tomorrow, just you wait and see..." He's not a professional singer, but he can carry a tune. "There'll be love and laughter, and peace ever after, tomorrow, when the world is free."
Never has Vera Lynn sounded so funereal.