Yesterday, 01:16 AM
A voice tugged him from his thoughts. It was soft, respectful, and sounded young.
He turned, surprised to see a girl bundled against the cold, a service vest clipped to the back of what looked like her pet dog. For a second, he blinked, wondering if the cold was playing tricks on him. But her eyes were bright, searching, and her tone carried more maturity than most her age.
“I’m quite all right,” he said, his drawl gentling the words. His voice carried warmth, the kind of steady calm that made people comfortable. “Just thinkin’ about this time of year, I suppose.”
She’d asked about the statue, and he glanced back at it, hands slipping into the pockets of his coat. “Truth is, I don’t know who she is. Just that she’s old. Probably been here longer than any of us. You happen to know?” His tone was curious, genuinely interested, inviting her knowledge as equal to his own. He bent slightly then, lowering himself to her level, so he wouldn’t be towering. His gaze fell to the animal pressed close to her side. “This your dog?” he asked softly. “Mind if I say hello?” He extended a hand palm-up, the way you’d offer to any wary creature, though his brow furrowed slightly at the pup’s strange proportions. “Don’t quite recognize the breed.”
Movement behind her drew his eye, and Jensen looked up to meet another man’s approach. He was protective and cautious, that much was plain. Jensen’s smile deepened, warm and respectful. “Not a disturbance at all,” he said sincerely, straightening his spine.
For a moment, he hesitated. There was something in the way the man fell into step with the girl that twisted at Jensen’s chest: a quiet pang of memory. His own children, their small hands in his, years ago. He swallowed the ache and kept his tone steady.
“Did y’all enjoy the service?” he asked, opening the circle to include them both. His voice carried no pity, no patronization. Only genuine courtesy, the kind a gentleman would offer strangers on a winter’s night and stand until he was froze solid to do so.
He turned, surprised to see a girl bundled against the cold, a service vest clipped to the back of what looked like her pet dog. For a second, he blinked, wondering if the cold was playing tricks on him. But her eyes were bright, searching, and her tone carried more maturity than most her age.
“I’m quite all right,” he said, his drawl gentling the words. His voice carried warmth, the kind of steady calm that made people comfortable. “Just thinkin’ about this time of year, I suppose.”
She’d asked about the statue, and he glanced back at it, hands slipping into the pockets of his coat. “Truth is, I don’t know who she is. Just that she’s old. Probably been here longer than any of us. You happen to know?” His tone was curious, genuinely interested, inviting her knowledge as equal to his own. He bent slightly then, lowering himself to her level, so he wouldn’t be towering. His gaze fell to the animal pressed close to her side. “This your dog?” he asked softly. “Mind if I say hello?” He extended a hand palm-up, the way you’d offer to any wary creature, though his brow furrowed slightly at the pup’s strange proportions. “Don’t quite recognize the breed.”
Movement behind her drew his eye, and Jensen looked up to meet another man’s approach. He was protective and cautious, that much was plain. Jensen’s smile deepened, warm and respectful. “Not a disturbance at all,” he said sincerely, straightening his spine.
For a moment, he hesitated. There was something in the way the man fell into step with the girl that twisted at Jensen’s chest: a quiet pang of memory. His own children, their small hands in his, years ago. He swallowed the ache and kept his tone steady.
“Did y’all enjoy the service?” he asked, opening the circle to include them both. His voice carried no pity, no patronization. Only genuine courtesy, the kind a gentleman would offer strangers on a winter’s night and stand until he was froze solid to do so.