( Honor wasn't at all sure how she managed to hold her temper. )

Admiral Lord Hamish Alexander, Earl White Haven, looked out the front windows to the darkening streets and shivered. The wind was kicking up, light debris scattering, and whipping around the corners of buildings; he could feel the cold as it tried to seep through the glass and into the warmth of the living room at 28 Sphinx Street. Shaking his head ( Read more... )

( Alfred Harrington closed his medical bag and turned, looking to his daughter with an expression filled with something less than fatherly adoration... )

Together, they stood at the base of the stairs, his hand holding hers, his thumb brushing slightly across the back of her hand. The house was silent around them, darkness pierced by the single overhead light burning on the first floor landing. As she looked up to him, she saw the light glinting in his eyes. "I've had a wonderful stay, Honor. Just ( Read more... )

( Tension: Breakfast of champions... )

The back deck was quickly replacing the study as Honor's "sanctum sanctorum," especially on nights like this one. The earlier rainstorms had passed through, leaving behind cool night air, and occasional glimpses at the bright moon above. As another cloud passed overhead, her attention was drawn upward, even as her fingers tangled in Nimitz's fur.

( We really should quit meeting like this... )

[OOC note: This post contains a large portion quoted from Chapter 5 of War of Honor by David Weber. I debated about the best way to do this, but I just don't think I could improve on this one, so I opted to use what was already written. The quote is noted by italics; any editorial changes I've made to fit the situation are in brackets. I've clipped ( Read more... )

While she would have preferred to beat the living daylights out of another trainer, Honor opted to work on kata that morning. The precise movements and concentration on form allowed a focus for the nervous energy she felt surging through her.

( Self-delusion is a healthy thing...right? )

Hours later found Honor and White Haven seated on the back deck at 28 Sphinx Street, basking in the April sunshine. Remnants of a light lunch sprawled across the café table before them and frosted mugs of an amber rested in each lap, balanced by hands wrapped around the handles.

( 'So nothing's blown up?' )

( Awkward much? )