𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟏 | 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

harry crosby could spend hours listening to you talk. and with the time that’s he’s spent in your workshop, he probably has. whenever he can, at least twice a week, he’d come visit you. he’d happily watch silently as you rambled on, fixing the beaten and battered planes that, to be honest, he’d rather never see again. after spending days being shot at - and shooting - in the planes, they start losing their whimsical charm.

this evening, he’d snuck from the men’s quarters, unsurprisingly tired of his fellow soldiers’ drunken bets. he sat atop one of the ladders, swinging his legs as he listened to you talk, from where your head was buried in a plane cockpit.