How's this, Trin?
Girl Talk
"His hands." One lieutenant giggled over her sandwich. "Have you seen his hands? Long fingers--you know what they say."
"I know." The taller companion grinned, eyes wide. "Big hands, big--"
"No, Ruthie, I think that's big feet, big--"
"Well, whatever." Tall Ruthie shrugged. "Too bad he's the General."
"Too bad he's going to DC."
Sam took their silence as an opportunity to sneak another peek at them. She'd been reading the paper when they'd arrived, then left it up when they'd started talking. Even when she'd long-since finished reading the article she'd been interested in.
"Too bad he's kind of old."
"That just means he's experienced, Tyra. And he'd be grateful." Ruthie sniffed.
"But think about it." The lieutenant, a blonde, leaned conspiratorially over the commissary table. "He's been through so much. I bet he needs some comfort from time to time."
"Aw--you're probably right." Tyra leaned her chin on his fist. "And I don't care if he's old. He's still hot."
"Oh my gosh, yes." Tall Ruthie lifted her hands to futz with her hair's moorings. "What is it about a guy with stars?"
"So much cooler than eagles."
"And that hair!" Blonde leaned back in her chair, waving a carrot stick. "I just want to--" she spread her fingers and gesticulated into the air.
"Smooth it."
"Comb it with my fingers."
But Blondie, apparently, had other ideas. "Lick it."
"Okay--" Tall Ruthie giggled. "That's gross."
"You'd probably get a hair ball."
"You're probably right." Blondie sighed. "But it'd still be hot."
"Sometimes I worry about you , Trish." Tyra picked up a salt packet and chucked it across the table.
Blonde Trish sighed again, picking up the packet and waggling it between her fingers. "But he's still just so freakin' cute."
"And those hands."
"Those fingers."
"Can you imagine?"
"I do. And have. Frequently."
"Too bad he's going to DC."
Sam uncrossed her legs under the table, simultaneously folding her paper and laying it next to her coffee cup. Standing, she reached for her briefcase and fitted her hat under her arm. There were times she was grateful when she was required to wear her dress uniform. She was fully aware that she looked all kinds of fine in it.
Walking towards the group, she paused, catching each young officer's eye in turn.
"You know." She drew out her pause, her eyebrow lifting. "It's not a good idea to discuss vastly superior officers when you're not completely aware of who might be listening."
The three young women turned a distinct few shades paler.
"So, in the future, I'd be careful." She gave them all the once-over again before turning towards the door.
A few steps away, though, she gave in to temptation and turned back. Recapturing their attention with a steely eye, she shifted her weight onto one foot and leaned into them. "And just so you know, ladies. It's big feet, and yes he has them, and yes, it matters."
And then she whirled on her sensible, shiny heel and stalked into the hall.
Spoiler:
Girl Talk
"His hands." One lieutenant giggled over her sandwich. "Have you seen his hands? Long fingers--you know what they say."
"I know." The taller companion grinned, eyes wide. "Big hands, big--"
"No, Ruthie, I think that's big feet, big--"
"Well, whatever." Tall Ruthie shrugged. "Too bad he's the General."
"Too bad he's going to DC."
Sam took their silence as an opportunity to sneak another peek at them. She'd been reading the paper when they'd arrived, then left it up when they'd started talking. Even when she'd long-since finished reading the article she'd been interested in.
"Too bad he's kind of old."
"That just means he's experienced, Tyra. And he'd be grateful." Ruthie sniffed.
"But think about it." The lieutenant, a blonde, leaned conspiratorially over the commissary table. "He's been through so much. I bet he needs some comfort from time to time."
"Aw--you're probably right." Tyra leaned her chin on his fist. "And I don't care if he's old. He's still hot."
"Oh my gosh, yes." Tall Ruthie lifted her hands to futz with her hair's moorings. "What is it about a guy with stars?"
"So much cooler than eagles."
"And that hair!" Blonde leaned back in her chair, waving a carrot stick. "I just want to--" she spread her fingers and gesticulated into the air.
"Smooth it."
"Comb it with my fingers."
But Blondie, apparently, had other ideas. "Lick it."
"Okay--" Tall Ruthie giggled. "That's gross."
"You'd probably get a hair ball."
"You're probably right." Blondie sighed. "But it'd still be hot."
"Sometimes I worry about you , Trish." Tyra picked up a salt packet and chucked it across the table.
Blonde Trish sighed again, picking up the packet and waggling it between her fingers. "But he's still just so freakin' cute."
"And those hands."
"Those fingers."
"Can you imagine?"
"I do. And have. Frequently."
"Too bad he's going to DC."
Sam uncrossed her legs under the table, simultaneously folding her paper and laying it next to her coffee cup. Standing, she reached for her briefcase and fitted her hat under her arm. There were times she was grateful when she was required to wear her dress uniform. She was fully aware that she looked all kinds of fine in it.
Walking towards the group, she paused, catching each young officer's eye in turn.
"You know." She drew out her pause, her eyebrow lifting. "It's not a good idea to discuss vastly superior officers when you're not completely aware of who might be listening."
The three young women turned a distinct few shades paler.
"So, in the future, I'd be careful." She gave them all the once-over again before turning towards the door.
A few steps away, though, she gave in to temptation and turned back. Recapturing their attention with a steely eye, she shifted her weight onto one foot and leaned into them. "And just so you know, ladies. It's big feet, and yes he has them, and yes, it matters."
And then she whirled on her sensible, shiny heel and stalked into the hall.
My Fics - the fluffy/silly variety
... but are you gonna tell them no? No, you go buy a new titanium fishing rod! 
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