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She meant it. Listening to his speech to the company, she knew that a lot of the words were similar to the ones she'd heard in the armory. But this time there was no deception, no ulterior motive. She thought he'd been heartfelt, and meant every word.

"I'll be happy to report that up the chain then," Remsburg said.

"One hint, though? Don't sell yourself short, Sergeant.

You deserve your kudos for this, especially in this unit where official kudos are often hard to come by.

This time, I think you and the rest of your team can expect at least a positive note in your files. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday."

The barbecue continued, some of the troops scattering as the food got eaten and seven straight days of work caught up with them.

Linda helped out with cleanup though, taking a bag of garbage to the big dumpster behind the barracks.

When she came back it was only Major Kirk and the other officers still outside, doing the last of the cleanup.

"Hey sir, you need a hand?" she asked Lieutenant Parker, who waved her off.

"This is on us now, Castellanos. You go catch up on rack or whatever you want to do. You've earned it. You'll have Hollywood back come Wednesday, so out with the new, in with the old."

Linda laughed, shaking her head. "After this past week, Hollywood's going to be nice and boring. See you Wednesday morning sir."

Linda went back to her room, but after changing out of her uniform and into some casual, warm sweats for comfort, she couldn't help but feel like things were just a bit off. She hadn't seen Brutus since about five minutes into the barbecue, and for him to leave without saying goodbye felt... weird.

She decided that if he wasn't going to come by to see her, she could go by to see him, if anything to make sure that he was okay. But just as she pulled the door open she almost ran into Brutus, who had his hand raised to knock on the wood.

"Oh!" he said, jerking his hand back to avoid rapping her in the forehead. "I was... uhm, are you going somewhere right now?"

"Actually... no." Linda stepped back. She looked him over, and saw that he'd changed into one of the Bluecats track suits he'd been wearing for PT. "Getting ready to leave?"

"In a bit, but... can I come in?" Brutus said quietly. "I'd like to talk with you for a minute or two if you'd let me."

Linda nodded, and allowed Brutus into her room. Going over to her small couch, she sat down, her eyes fixed on him as he stayed by the mostly closed door.

"What's up? I didn't see you much at the barbecue after the colonel stopped by."

"Yeah... I just... had to think." Brutus ran his hand through his hair. "Look, Linda... I'm sorry about Wednesday."

"You're sorry?" she asked warily. "Why?"

Brutus stuck his hands in his pockets, struggling to find the words. "I should have respected you as a professional. I should have... look, I'm not saying anything I did wasn't true. Hell, I wanted to... you know."

"Lay one on me?" Linda asked.

Brutus nodded.

"You can talk plainly, Brutus. These walls are thick and nobody comes down to this corner unless they're coming to see me. So you wanted to kiss me."

"I did. But I shouldn't have. The more I thought about it, the more I thought of what my therapist would tell me."

"So kissing me was psychologically scarring?" Linda asked.

Brutus looked at her, his eyes flaring with anger and shame.

"Sorry. It shook me up too. What would your therapist say?"

“That while I might have acted honestly, I didn't act wisely. In football, there's times for both. When you're in the film room, in the huddle... hell, up until the ball snaps, you're in thinking mode. But when that ball snaps, you don't have time to think. You have time to see and react."

"Something I'm familiar with, as the past few days have taught you."

"Right, totally. You were right, I said I respected you, but I didn't really respect you.” Brutus took a deep breath. "But that's changed. And I'm sorry. That moment in the arms room, I should have thought, and not acted. If I could take Wednesday back, at least the kiss, I would."

"You've got some impulse issues for sure." Linda chuckled. "I can't put all the blame on you though. I did kiss you back."

"That you did... and wow it was good," Brutus said with a soft laugh. "Best I've had in a very long time."

The heat in his words felt good, and Linda tilted her head.

"So what drove it home for you? Because the words you said out in front of the company were pretty similar. But I could tell they were a lot more heartfelt than Wednesday."

"Yeah, I know, but... you remember Friday?" Brutus said. "The tower?"

Linda nodded, remembering. One of the basic activities they'd taken Brutus through was rappelling, and at first things had gone well. He'd demonstrated all the right positions, keeping a strong L-shape on the six foot high practice wall, his braking hand strong and his knees soft.

But when he'd gone off the tower, he'd frozen, his primal mind telling him that the idea of hanging from a deadly height by nothing more than a thin rope was inherently wrong.

Linda quickly realized what had happened, and hooked up to go down next to him, quietly talking him all the way down to the ground.

He'd been terrified, and he nearly fell to his knees in relief when his boots crunched into the sawdust at the bottom of the tower.

"You know, when I went through Air Assault school, our final rappel was going out of an actual helicopter," Linda recalled, smiling at the memory.

"For my class, they used Blackhawks. Because of the weight of my pack and everything, I decided to do a friction hookup.

I was really new at the time, didn't have the grip strength I do now, and worried I'd go down that rope like a greased goat. "

"Greased goat?"

"It's a Puerto Rican saying, or maybe just mi barrio saying," Linda said. "Anyway, I get to the edge of the chopper, and the rappel master calls for us to go. So I push off, swing my arm out wide to give myself the slack to drop... and proceed to go chest first into the bottom door frame."

"Ouch!" Brutus gasped. "Why?"

"The friction hookup had gotten crossed over," Linda admitted.

"Anyway, there I was, a hundred feet above the grass, dangling.

I looked at the carabiner, trying to figure out how to get this fucking thing unstuck when bam!

I get hit in the helmet. I look up to see the rappel master on his knees, bonking me on the helmet.

'What's wrong?' he asked, and I told him.

His solution was to keep bonking me on the goddamn helmet until the rope clicked in right and I went down the rope.

.. slow as an old man walking the stairs.

I really, really didn't need that friction hookup. "

Brutus laughed. "But you did it. Look, I watched you over the entire exercise, Linda. You fought better than me, but like the tower, you kept trying to help me too."

He was using her first name again, and she didn't mind. In fact, it sounded good coming from his lips. "That was my job."

"No, that's leadership," Brutus said. "I might not know how to be a soldier, even after a long week of cosplaying.

Because, that's what I did. But I know leadership.

I've shared locker rooms with real bastards, assholes I wouldn't trust with fifty cents.

But I've figured out how to get the most out of them on the field, in the huddle.

We've won playoff games together. I got to hoist a championship with one group of them, something I'll always be proud of.

But you did that over a simple exercise to help a spoiled football player learn his place, even when you could have let me fall on my ass.

That's leadership, Linda. And I... thank you. "

"You're welcome, Brutus." Linda stood up. "You weren't that bad though. I mean, you tried. And if you're a spoiled football player, you unspoiled yourself by the day in my eyes."

"Thanks... you're being nice," Brutus said. "Look, another thing. Earlier this week, when I told you about myself, you said something to me that's really been sitting with me. You said you thought I could be more than a football player."

Linda nodded, smiling a little. "You could be. You're not a rocket scientist Brutus, but I'm not one either."

"Yeah well, you're like one of only a handful of people who thinks I can be more than a football jock," Brutus said, almost a trifle sadly.

"The team wants me to be a football player, a linebacker.

My agent wants me to be a football player so he can keep making two million dollars a year off of me, his cut of my contracts.

My family wants me to be a football player, my dad says I need another two to three years before I can guarantee myself a spot in the hall of fame.

That's something he never got a chance to do, as you know. "

"Is that what you want, though?" Linda asked.

Brutus shrugged.

"What's that mean?"

"It means that even my ex-girlfriends have always been about me being a famous football player," Brutus said. "And rich. They wanted to be a Bluecat WAG more than anything else."

"WAG?"

"Wives And Girlfriends."

"Ah. Well, I don't give a damn about your money or your football career, and I like football," Linda said. "You're a good guy, Brutus."

"And that's why you're so... remarkable, Linda.

" Brutus took a deep breath. "Look, I know this might be stupid.

I fucked up on Wednesday, so if you tell me to GTFO, I get it.

I'll walk out the door knowing I fucked it up.

But I'd like to be able to call you, to.

.. to see you after this week. To get to know Linda Castellanos outside of the uniform, even if the uniform is part of who you are. "

Before Linda could answer Brutus reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a card, thrusting it forward. "What's this?"

"My personal cell." He blushed. "I'm asking you out on a date, Linda.

Next weekend, Saturday. I'll come by, pick you up if you'd like or meet you somewhere in town if you'd prefer.

.. whatever. You don't have to answer me right now, you might still be thinking of me as a sergeant and not as Linda.

But if you don't want to go out, just throw that card away. Like I said, I get it."

"Brutus... hey Brutus!" Tyrone Crews called from the hallway, and Brutus stuck his head out the door.

"Yeah?"

"Major Kirk was wondering if you were ready to clear the barracks!" Crews called. "Ready to sign out?"

"Yeah... one minute!" Brutus called, ducking back into Linda's room. "Anyway... think about it."

"I will." Linda held onto the card. "You know the CO and probably Remsburg would like a photo. Nothing big, just a selfie or something."

Brutus shrugged. "Don't tell anyone, but I already texted my agent. Next season, I'm treating all of Cranked to a home game. You guys'll have to figure out how to get to Bluecats Stadium though. I don't think we've got electric bike parking."

Linda laughed, and stuck out her tongue. "Go on, get out of here, Brutus. And I promise, I'll think about it."

Brutus smiled and left, leaving Linda looking at the card in her hand. She could see the handwritten number, along with a single quick inscription.

Please.

Going over to her wallet, she undid the Velcro flap and tucked it inside for later. She wasn't going to call him now, she wanted to think it over, take a shower, maybe grab a nap.

But the truth was, she already knew what she was going to do.

She was going out on a date with Brutus Townsend next Saturday.