Soul of Discretion (Cottle, Laura - T)afrakadayMarch 13 2012, 17:14:12 UTC
“How long do you plan to maintain this ‘allergies’ charade, young lady?” I glance nonchalantly at the President over her chart. The Commander’s started to make discreet inquiries. I doubt she knows, but she’s a smart woman, this should tip her off.
She snaps out of her daze with impressive alacrity and pulls the thin gown tighter around her frame if to ward off the implications of my question. “As long as I need to,” she retorts.
One has to give her credit; the chamalla, the poor prognosis, none of it seems to shake her devotion to the scant fifty thousand souls entrusted by Fate to her care. It’s a lot--too much--for one person to handle alone.
I proceed with caution. “How many people know?”
She pauses. “You. Billy. Elosha, the priestess. And Captain Adama.” The anxiety radiating from her is palpable.
Lighting a cigarette, I chew on that information. So one Adama knows of her illness, but not the one who needs to most.
“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually,” I advise gruffly, then take a long drag and exhale slowly toward the gap in the curtain. “But in the meantime, you can count on my continued discretion.”
Re: Soul of Discretion (Cottle, Laura - T)tjonesyMarch 14 2012, 01:23:42 UTC
I love the way you've written the two of them here. And I totally buy Cottle advising her on what he believes is the right thing to do, but respecting her enough to ultimately keep her secret.
She snaps out of her daze with impressive alacrity and pulls the thin gown tighter around her frame if to ward off the implications of my question. “As long as I need to,” she retorts.
One has to give her credit; the chamalla, the poor prognosis, none of it seems to shake her devotion to the scant fifty thousand souls entrusted by Fate to her care. It’s a lot--too much--for one person to handle alone.
I proceed with caution. “How many people know?”
She pauses. “You. Billy. Elosha, the priestess. And Captain Adama.” The anxiety radiating from her is palpable.
Lighting a cigarette, I chew on that information. So one Adama knows of her illness, but not the one who needs to most.
“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually,” I advise gruffly, then take a long drag and exhale slowly toward the gap in the curtain. “But in the meantime, you can count on my continued discretion.”
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