“So?” Marcella asked the two of you when you came back, sitting on a water barrel, “All done with the secrets?” What she was wearing in the summer evening was something that wouldn’t be out of place as underclothing (which it was normally- under the uniform)- and extremely standout in this place, probably, though not a place like the coast or Lapizlazulli- where it would still be provocative.
“It’s something you’ll find out about in time, probably,” Leo said, “Not like you don’t have plenty to do.”
“Not ‘til they started breakin’ apart,” Marcella sighed, and she gave you a hopeful wink, “Or ‘til somebody signs off on me tryin’ out some <span class="mu-i">ideas</span>.”
What ideas, you wondered. Back in the war, everybody was still rather uncertain on how best to even use tanks as they were, and if anything happened here, you anticipated things being different. Especially with the vehicles being completely different. Still, though. You were reminded of what you appreciated of this woman- why she was probably much better off out of the line of fire.
“Actually,” Leo said, “You talk to him about that.” He excused himself, walking off, “I want to poke around about…what we talked about just now. I’ll be around.”
He turned and went out of the motor pool, and Marcella’s eyes followed him, wide open and baffled, until they landed back on you. “You must’ve really thrown him fer a long one. Haven’t seen ‘im like that in a while. Sure y’ don’t wanna tell me?”
Marcella might have been an example of somebody who didn’t benefit from how society was presently structured, as a common woman with an inordinate amount of skill, but she wasn’t somebody of a particularly revolutionary mindset when it came to society. She was very <span class="mu-i">agreeable</span>- but not <span class="mu-i">political</span>.
“It might turn out to be nothing,” you warded her off, “Knowing ahead of time won’t do you any good.”
“<span class="mu-i">Ooooh</span> how <span class="mu-i">mysterious</span>,” Marcella smirked at you impishly, crossing one leg over the other, then again. Bouncing her feet against the barrel. “Fine then, I won’t pry, Bonetto.” A small pause, and Marcella’s smile faded. “Hey, can I talk about somethin’ with ya? Concernin’ Leo.” You nodded. “So…guess y’should know already, that last letter Chiara wrote. Tellin’ Leo that he should make me…uh,” She looked down, “How much d’you…know about us. Chiara and I were, sorta, havin’ a bit of a fight over…”
“I know.” You said, flatly.
“…Should tell you everything, then, huh.”
“I know already,” you said again, “It wasn’t any of my business.”