A Sight To See

Posted on Wed Nov 26th, 2025 @ 10:12am by Penelope Haskell & Captain Wolfe Sean

1,830 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: The Hand That Rocks The Babe
Location: Marine Deck
Timeline: Current

This time she wore candy apple red, complete with the eyeliner and only enough makeup to make sure that the cameras didn’t meld her face together. Pink eyeshadow and ruby red lipstick matched with the off-the-shoulder dress that came down to just past her knees as she carried the bag over her elbow and swept through the hatch into Marine Country clicking with her heels as she walked. She flashed a bright smile at the sentry who almost seemed to melt at it, but her eyes were searching the hall for someone. And almost everyone that saw her was wishing that they were that person she sought.

Almost unconsciously, several of the privates began to follow the vision in red, hypnotized by the sight as she threw a brief skip into her step to throw off the rhythm she’d begun to get the habit of, her hips swaying with the beat. Then she stopped as she reached the rec room and stood in the doorway, here’s flitting around as she searched it, a moue of disappointment when she didn’t see her target.

Wolfe stepped out from the far corner of the rec room just in time to catch the look of disappointment flicker across Penelope's face. The sight hit him harder than he’d admit to anyone wearing chevrons or bars.

“Looking for someone, Red?” he asked, voice carrying just enough to snap a few privates back to attention. He ignored them, his attention was solely on the woman that made an entrance that would leave many talking for a good while. He crossed the distance between them with that steady, unhurried stride of his, the kind that made people either move out of his way or straighten their spines. But the moment he reached her, the whole edge softened. His eyes swept her slowly, appreciatively, like he was taking inventory of something he had no intention of letting out of his sight.

“You know,” Wolfe said, lowering his voice as he stopped in front of her, “if you’re going to walk through Marine Country dressed like that, I’m going to start charging admission.”

He tipped his head toward the bag on her arm. “And here I thought you were trying to spoil me. Lunch and a view that’s going to have half my unit walking into bulkheads for the rest of the day.”

His hand hovered for a moment, just enough to let her decide if she wanted the brief brush of contact, before he added with a faint smirk. “Come on. Before these kids start thinking you’re recruiting.”

“One sec.” Penny said with the glitter in her eyes that had muted from the brightness when she’d heard him calling out to her, “Gotta disappoint some of your boys and girls.” Before he could object, she’d leaned up the remaining inch to him and planted a kiss on his lips to the slight groan of angst from those that had still hung around to keep an eye on her. She grinned at him before entwining one arm into his, the one without the bag, “Lead on, Macduff! I brought Chinese today, but I had to re-record today’s broadcast, I made a mistake and then ran out of time to change.”

Wolfe didn’t even try to hide the small grunt of satisfaction that left him when she kissed him, mostly because it drowned perfectly beneath the collective heartbreak of half a dozen Marines behind her. He shot them a flat look over her shoulder that said dismissed before they could start a round of applause or complaints.

“Cruel woman,” he murmured against her lips as she pulled back, though the faint upward tug at the corner of his mouth betrayed exactly how little he minded. “You come waltzing in here like a recruiting poster and then break their spirits in one shot.” He let her take his arm, the shift in his posture automatic, shoulders still squared like a Captain, but with that subtle ease that only she seemed able to bring out of him.

“Macduff, huh?” he said as he led her down the corridor, amusement rumbling in his voice. “You know, quoting Shakespeare at me while smelling like takeout is a dangerous combination. A man could get used to this.” Chinese. A broadcast re-record. A rush. He glanced down at her, taking in the red dress again with a slow, appreciative pass of his eyes.

“Then remind me to thank whatever mistake you made,” Wolfe said, lowering his voice just for her. “Because if this” He gestured lightly to her dress with his free hand. “is the ‘ran out of time’ version, I’m almost afraid to see what happens when you do have time.”

He nudged the door panel to his office open with his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s eat before your fan club regroups and tries to stage a rescue operation, or an abduction.”

Penelope chuckled and slipped into his office with a glance back at the lingering eyes, but didn’t incite them with any sort of wink at them, instead smiling brightly, “Well, if you like what you see, I can certainly arrange some more visits looking like a pinup girl if you’d really like.” She paused for a moment and wondered, “Makes me think that some of your troops might not just do that, which means I absolutely have to stake my claim to you in their eyes.”

She paused for a moment before pulling out a few of the white Chinese takeout boxes from the bag, “Just let me know when the next officers ball is and you know I’ll make everyone, up to and including any generals that attend, jealous of you. Of course, their wives or girlfriends will want to kill me, but I’ll take my chances!”

Wolfe closed the door behind them with a quiet swish, the kind that sealed off the rest of the ship, and the audience she’d unintentionally gathered. “Careful,” he said as he watched her move around his office, that bright smile aimed his way like she knew exactly what it did to him. “You promise ‘pinup girl’ visits, and I’m going to have to start scheduling mandatory morale checks just to justify how often you show up to the Major and Colonel.”

He leaned one shoulder against the bulkhead, arms folding across his chest, but the smirk on his face softened the posture. “And for the record? You don’t need to stake a claim.” He tipped his chin slightly, eyes catching hers. “They already know. Trust me, every Marine out there understands I’m a lost cause the second you walk into a room.”

Wolfe stepped over to the desk, taking one of the boxes from her hand, brushing her fingers on purpose, just for the quiet spark it caused. “As for the officers’ ball…” He chuckled, low and under his breath. “Last time I went solo, so you'd be a first.”

His gaze slid over her again, openly appreciative now that they had privacy. “Bring you looking like that?” He shook his head slowly, amused. “I’m not worried about generals being jealous. I’m worried about them tripping over their own damn feet trying not to stare.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like a secret meant only for her. “And if any wives or girlfriends go for your throat… don’t worry. I’ll throw myself heroically in front of the danger.”

“I’ve got claws of my own, don’t worry!” Penelope kissed him on the tip of his nose, leaving a red dot, “After all, you’ve been giving me a few lessons in defending myself, which, by the way, we’re due for another lesson soon. I can’t just be easy on the eyes, if I’m going to travel with you and the troops, and no you still aren’t going to talk me out of being down on the ground with you all, reporting, I’d best be able to defend myself.”

“And as for morale visits, is it good for morale or bad for it when I show up?” She pondered for a moment, “Definitely good for your morale, and I don’t hear any complaints from anyone else yet. But if I do, at least I’ll know where my next story can come from, right?”

Wolfe blinked when she tapped a kiss on his nose, feeling the faint smear of her lipstick but not bothering to wipe it off. If anything, the tiny red mark seemed to amuse him, proof, in its own way, that she’d staked that claim she joked about. “Claws, huh?” he said, voice a low rumble as he set the last takeout box down. “I’ve seen them. And trust me, sweetheart, half the people on this ship would rather take their chances with incoming fire than get on your bad side.”

He reached out and brushed a thumb lightly over her cheek, a small, deliberate touch. “And for the record, your self-defense lessons aren’t because you ‘look good.’ They’re because you’re stubborn, and reckless, and dead set on being in the middle of every damn firefight with a microphone.” A pause. His expression softened. “And because if you’re going to insist on being with us on the ground… then you’re damn right you’re going to know how to protect yourself.”

He tipped his head, considering her question about morale with a slow, thoughtful smirk. “Is it good or bad for morale when you show up?” He pretended to weigh it seriously. “Let’s see… every Marine within fifty feet stands a little straighter, works a little faster, and suddenly stops complaining about double shifts. So I’d call that a tactical advantage.”

He leaned in a bit, lowering his voice. “And yes, before you say it, I know it’s good for my morale. You walk in and the whole day gets much better.”

She raked her perfectly manicured fingernails down his arm very gently (she didn’t want to break one), “More visits for sure, then, randomly.” She said softly, “I’ll figure out something to wear to keep giving them no reason to complain, or you.” She gave him another kiss, this one not meant for public consumption, before breaking it off after several long seconds, "but if we don’t sit down and eat it, lunch is going to get cold.”

She took a half step back from him reluctantly, despite her own words, as something else hit her, “And why would people really not want to be on my bad side? I’m not going to say anything bad about the unit or anyone in it unless they really deserve it! I’m not a petty Penny, just a pretty one!”

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