Americans… Louise sighed, the unspoken word tasting bitter on the tip of her tongue as she lifted her head to view the time for what could only have been the fiftieth time in the time since she arrived to meet her contact. Was she being punished? The question was posed dryly to her superior but she had yet to cease wondering if her crime could have been malicious enough to warrant partnering her with Americans. Cursing in soft mutters, her attention returned to a novel clutched firmly within her left hand but any attempt at focus that lasted beyond a sentence or two was futile. Admittedly, the girl was far from the patient sort. Her free hand raised to wipe away a bead of sweat that rolled languidly from her hairline, reaching only as far as her temple. France was on fire, both literally and figuratively - still under heavy occupation, the summer was equally as punishing as the German forces. Squirming uncomfortably in her seat, she found even the lightest, most immodest of sundresses too stifling in the afternoon heat. Closing her book, she turned it to a more practical use, fanning herself with the thick stack of pages as her gaze lifted again to the village clock. “Fuck…”
@bearbasterd
