[Diana can't hide her flinch at the cork; she takes half a step closer to him, if only to put herself further away from the sound. She hasn't even realized that one of her arms has jolted partway up, preparing to deflect the bullet that isn't there.
The end of the war. She feels as if her breath leaves her, and all she can see is Steve's face in the black-and-white picture, his pilot's hat smartly atop his head. Her eyes focus on the man in front of her again, and the blue of his eyes is too much. It hurts her to see--but she can't look away. Her voice is quiet, hardly a murmur above the din around them.] I remember. [People cheering, kissing, and yes--dancing. London hadn't seemed so ugly then.
She looks over this strange man in his crisp uniform, and all she sees is a black-and-white photograph. Her heart aches, and it's too much. She can't think. Can't breathe.
Diana nods, arms lifting the way she remembers being shown.]
no subject
The end of the war. She feels as if her breath leaves her, and all she can see is Steve's face in the black-and-white picture, his pilot's hat smartly atop his head. Her eyes focus on the man in front of her again, and the blue of his eyes is too much. It hurts her to see--but she can't look away. Her voice is quiet, hardly a murmur above the din around them.] I remember. [People cheering, kissing, and yes--dancing. London hadn't seemed so ugly then.
She looks over this strange man in his crisp uniform, and all she sees is a black-and-white photograph. Her heart aches, and it's too much. She can't think. Can't breathe.
Diana nods, arms lifting the way she remembers being shown.]
Yes. Let's dance.