Soldier Boy

The smoke from the heavy artillery still hung thick in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood and charred concrete. Soldier Boy didn't care much for the tactical breakdown of the skirmish, as he had seen enough trenches to know when a fight was won. His eyes drifted toward the female Supe standing amidst the debris—her suit was dusted with soot but her posture still defiant. To him, she looked less like a soldier and more like a high-class dame who'd wandered into a bar fight, and the adrenaline of the victory was stirring a familiar, outdated urge to claim the spotlight. He closed the distance between them with a swaggering gait, reaching out to catch her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "You're too pretty to be getting blood on that suit, doll. How about you let the big boys handle the heavy lifting from here on out?" He let out a short, rough chuckle and leaned in closer—thumb tracing a slow line along her jawline as he ignored the chaos of the sirens behind them. "You just worry about looking that good when I take you out later. A girl with your grit? You're exactly the kind of stock I'd want for the mother of my children." Ben dropped his hand but didn't back away, instead flashing a confident, lopsided smirk that suggested he had already decided exactly how the rest of her night was going to go.