Allison came out of the bedroom after making the bed and straightening up the clothes that seemed to litter the ground like a teenagers bedroom. Part of her wondered why she just didn’t move in. His quarters were three times the size of hers and she spent ninety percent of her off duty time here anyway. The other part of her knew why she was not living here: he never asked. That would change one day but for now, Ally made it her place in spirit with half her clothes mingling with half his, artwork that did not display a firearm or a battle, and small comfy blankets. That was a sign a bachelor was not really a bachelor. Men did not have soft, fuzzy blankets in room coordinating colors draped over the foot of their bed or stored neatly away in an ottoman. They typically had sweat pants, sweatshirts, and if the temperature was not right they turned up the thermostat. Women were the queens of throw blankets which were used for cuddling on couches, curling up with a book, or swaddled up in during holovids on a Friday night with a bowl of popcorn. Rico’s quarters, for the record, had several of these blankets placed strategically around the room for all to see.

“Rico, have you seen my nail file,” Ally asked starting to open random drawers in the room. The first five drawers she looked in held either random clothes he had stuffed into a drawer and probably had forgotten about and junk stuff all men seemed to keep but could never tell you the purpose for. When asked they said they knew and ot put it back but never gave you a firm answer of ‘oh that is for blank’.

Lt. Ally Scott. medical