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Chapter 33: The Weight We Carry, Part 2
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Helena glanced over toward him, her expression warm but cautious. “Was she in the service?” she asked softly.
Larkin nodded slightly. “We met on Atlantis. She was a civilian linguist —Ancient and Latin roots. She had this way of seeing patterns in languages I couldn't even grasp.” He smiled faintly. “And she couldn't carry a tune, but that didn't stop her from trying.”
Fairbairn softened. “What was her name?” she asked.
“Clara” Larkin replied simply.
The name settled into the air like a hallowed memory. Sister Helena bowed her head slightly. “May she rest in peace,” she said softly.
Larkin didn't speak for a moment. He nodded once, grateful. Bjornson stepped into the silence like a warm blanket.
“Clara had excellent taste. Glen Campbell is a universal truth.”
“Indeed,” said Larkin. “How about you, Sergeant? What music do you like?”
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very nice ! and an interesting story ! may I ask you something ? how do you get that text in to the next line in the description ? like this convo ?
I love this Matt. I love the conversation, that really humanises them doesn't it? And the image, fabulous!
Fun conversation 😸 I love Deep Purple, Rolling Stones but can also appreciate and enjoy ABBA and The Carpenters.
“I like songs with strong drums,” replied Bjornson. “And ABBA is alright too.”
Fairbairn snorted. “You like ABBA?”
“You don't? The Norwegian said in a deadpan voice.
Fairbairn threw up her hands. “Alright, we're having this fight now!”
Larkin took a sip of his tea and raised an eyebrow. “For what it's worth, I still have a soft spot for the Carpenters.”
“Of course you do,” said Fairbairn.
“No, really. Clara introduced me to them. She used to play them while translating Ancient texts like they were love letters.”
“Clara had good taste,” said Sister Helena.
Larkin half smiled. “She used to say Karen Carpenter could break your heart with a single syllable.” He looked down in his cup. “I still play her records. When I do... it's like she's humming in the next room.”
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