Hillary nodded and picked up her duffel bag. "Is anyone staying in the other room?"
With two bedrooms and a study, it was obvious which room was the master suite.
She was eyeing the guest room.
She knew Claire was engaged to Dane; if he visited, she'd rather not be stuck sleeping on the study floor or the living room couch.
"No, it's empty. It's all yours," Claire said.
She pushed open the guest room door. The bed was covered with a dust sheet.
She pulled it off and brought out fresh linens.
Hillary waved off Claire's help and efficiently made the bed herself.
The sheets were pulled military-tight, and the blanket was folded into a flawless Tofu-block fold.
Claire watched in awe.
It was a masterpiece of precision.
"Wow, your bed-making skills are incredible."
Hillary smiled faintly. "Of course."
If she couldn't maintain basic discipline, how could she be a proper soldier?
"The bathroom is right there, and the kitchen is on the left when you walk in."
"I rarely cook, so the kitchen doesn't get much use."
"If you wake up early and want to make breakfast..." Claire trailed off.
She suddenly remembered Hillary's background.
An elite operative and heiress probably didn't spend much time whisking eggs.
"Funny you say that. I can't cook to save my life. I can boil instant noodles, though. Let me know if you need any."
Claire rubbed her nose. "..."
She'd rather order takeout.
Hillary clearly knew her limits in the kitchen.
She dropped the subject of cooking entirely.
Claire watched her methodically unpack and wash up, looking ready to hit the sack before nine.
"Will I bother you if I do some drills in the living room?"
Hillary didn't strictly need to train tonight, but her iron discipline demanded she never let her skills slip.
Especially while on a protection detail!
"Not at all."
Claire retreated to the study, reviewing Professor Vance's notes before heading to her own room to sleep.
When she finally stepped out, Hillary was still going strong.
"Does working out like this become an obsession? Like, if you skip a day, you feel sick?"
Claire asked, leaning against her doorframe in her pajamas.
She was purely curious.
"Something like that. It's not strictly mandatory, just self-discipline."
Hillary was wearing a sports bra and shorts her sharp abs glistening with sweat a sight that made, Claire deeply envious.
Claire knew she'd never match Hillary's physical prowess, but she recognized that same relentless dedication in her own medical studies.
It was a discipline carved into her very bones.
Soon enough, Claire witnessed Hillary's meticulous nature in a totally different setting.
Rumors were sweeping the campus about a legendary new cafeteria worker with obsessive precision.
The portion on every plate was practically identical.
If she was serving fish, everyone got the exact same amount.
If someone got a slightly larger piece, she'd instantly balance the next plate with two
smaller ones.
The student body was obsessed with the new hire.
Even Claire's roommates were
buzzing about it and insisted onet
dragging Claire to the main dining hall to witness the miracle firsthand.
"They say this lady never shakes her hand. Complete equality. I am in love with her."
Skylar Sommers was sweet-talker, so the other cafeteria workers usually gave her extra.