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Sister Helena emerged from her room and went into the refractory for chow. The men had changed out of their uniform shirts and into casual clothes. Colonel Larkin wore a Hawaiian shirt, one similar to one he wore in his downtime when he was with SG-11, and his uniform trousers, while Bjornson wore his Norwegian National Football Team jersey with his uniform trousers.
The two men’s heads turned when Sister Helena entered the room dressed in her habit. They had not seen her in it since they were introduced to her at the SGC.
“Well. We’re not worthy,” said Bjornson. “Should we be playing for indulgences tonight?”
Colonel Larkin grinned, setting down a cup of bug juice. “Didn’t expect the habit. You sure you want to intimidate the table before we even deal?”
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I am totally blown away by the image and as always, the story keeps me grounded. It is just the sweetest read. And I love how the team is evolving.
Fun start to the new chapter. I liked the single image illustrating.
Don't know the song but made me think of early Springsteen, songs about the road.
There was a short pause. Fairbairn grinned. “Did you drive like you command, sir? Cautious and impossible to pass?”
Larkin smirked. “Only if I didn’t want to be caught,” he replied.
Fairbairn squinted. “This is ancient. Yours, Bjornson?”
Bjornson shook his head. “I assumed it was yours.” They glanced at the Colonel who has a warm smile on his face as if he was reminiscing.
“Chicago. We used to call it our anthem back home,” said Colonel Larkin softly. “It’s… wistful. But not sad,” Sister Helena observed.
“And there ain't no road just like it/ Anywhere I found/ Running south on Lake Shore Drive heading into town/ Just slippin' on by on £-$-Ð, Friday night trouble bound,” intoned Larkin, the song bringing about fond memories of his youth.
He shrugged, almost self-conscious. “There’s a stretch of highway along Lake Michigan where the world feels like it’s just lights, water, and possibility. Made a lot of fast runs on that road in my youth. Some of us grew up on it.”
“I find it… grounding,” said Sister Helena as she smiled softly and grabbed an MRE. “Besides, it brings luck. Or so the novices used to say.”
Fairbairn raised an eyebrow. “Luck, huh? That why the chaplain’s poker nights at Cheyenne were always suspiciously clean?” “No comment,” replied Sister Helena in a deadpan tone.
Bjornonson leaned forward. “If she wins, I say we call the Vatican. Might be the first poker-playing nun in orbit.”
“Long as she doesn’t read our souls while she reads the table,” said Colonel Larkin. “That depends on how badly you bluff,” Helena replied lightly. The team got their dinner and sat down to eat. Fairbairn set up a Bluetooth speaker on the other end of the table and lively conversation flowed as the music played. The low, nostalgic intro of “Lake Shore Drive” drifted through the speaker near the edge of the table.
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I love the camaraderie and the image is perfect. The story is heartwarming, Well done!!