Silence in the Storm

Dopamine.

- We Scottish are built different, eh...

- I believe you.

A solemn silence surrounded us for a significant amount of time; we were looking at a cloudless night sky among glances at each other. As soon as Soap finished what would it seem his third beer, he let out a loud belch and a resigned sigh. He turned his drunk gaze towards me, trying to choose words.

- ...Is she okay?

- Elise? - I lowered my head. - Yes, she's stabilized.

- Thank ye for saving her... And Keegan.

- I just did my job.

- You performed a miracle. - he slurred.

- I'm very far from doing that, Soap.

- Johnny... - he got closer. - Call me by my name, Angie. Call me Johnny.

- You're not in your best judgement, Soap. I suggest it's best for us to return to our tents.

- I'll go... If you call me by my name.

I froze.
Soap was there right next to me, just a few inches apart, looking deeply into my eyes expecting a reply.
His breath reeked of beer, his blue eyes were struggling to keep wide open. I felt his fingers sneakily entwining with mine. My stomach was twirling in a fluttering sensation, my anxiety went up again. That whole situation seemed an act of cowardice from both sides; I had to think fast before a regretful and catastrophic situation would take place and ruin our friendship.

- Okay, then... If I call you by your name, you will go to your tent, right?

- Yep. That's the deal.

- Very well... Johnny, go to sleep.

- ...Fair enough. - he backed down. - I'll go. But call me by my name from now on, okay?

- I'll think about it. - I chuckled. - Good night, Johnny.

- See? It's better when you call me Johnny! Good night, Mo' Leannan!

I didn't have the chance to reply; he kissed me on the forehead and clumsily left to his tent. I was just there, hands gripped onto my blanket, trying to process the fact that he blatantly nicknamed me, just like he used to nickname Elise. What those words meant...? I knew it was a scottish slang, but what they meant?
I didn't know if he was confused for a brief moment or if he really said it on purpose... Jumping into conclusions would be unwise, but my emotions were getting the best of me. All I could do was to try to get some sleep, so I've only took off my pants and boots, throwing my worn out body on the bed.

**********************

The sky was still dark when I heard knocks on my tent's pole. I looked at the alarm clock and it was still 3 something in the morning... My heart sank in fear; since we were in the middle of nowhere in the outskirts of a foreign country. I quietly grabbed my pistol and carefully unlocked, I wouldn't be in advantage if things were done in a clumsy rush. Although I was shaky, I assumed a shooting stance and cautiously walked towards the tent entrance.

- Who is there...?

- It's me, Soap! - his growly voice was easily recognizable.

- ...Okay, come on in... Johnny.

I've opened the tent's zipper and saw his muscular figure shadowing me, but I also could see his wide crooked smile. As I got up and stepped back he walked in the tent, leaving a fresh and warm trace of cologne in the air... Such enticing smell. I followed him up with my eyes and his mohawk was damped; he probably took a shower before coming here. He was wearing his infamous dark blue sweatpants and a fitting white shirt. I crossed my cardigan over myself and let the pistol over the accent table. He was leisurely leaning on my desk with his hips, his muscular arms plumped up.