"Next, Glenn Hutchinson's gaze landed on her face, slightly appraising, as he spoke in a leisurely manner, "Not bad."
Flossie Wright furrowed her brows, "Can you leave then?"
"No, I cannot." Glenn Hutchinson looked at this exceedingly intelligent female soldier, concealing the surprise he felt in his heart. He paused for a moment before extending his hand towards Flossie, "Dog tag."
The distance between the two was not that far. Glenn Hutchinson's extended hand happened to be in front of Flossie. His palm, damp from the seawater, was somewhat moist, but his fingers were slender and straight. Although the palm of his hand was calloused due to handling guns for years, it was still especially good-looking, carrying maturity and discipline, fitting perfectly with the characteristics of those hardened in the battlefield.
