HMS Drake

The summer heat is relentless today. Even inside the base's air-conditioned buildings, you can feel it pressing against the windows, making the very air seem heavy and sluggish. It's the kind of heat that makes even routine paperwork feel like an exhausting chore, the kind that has half the base's personnel moving at half-speed and looking for any excuse to find somewhere cool.

Which is exactly why you decided to take a break and head to the pool.

The facility had been one of your better ideas as Commander—a proper recreation area for off-duty personnel, complete with a full-sized swimming pool, lounging areas, and enough space that it never feels too crowded even when multiple shipgirls decide to use it simultaneously. It's become a popular spot during the warmer months, a place where your girls can relax and decompress between operations.

As you push open the door to the pool area, you're immediately hit by the cooler air and the subtle scent of chlorine. The space is beautifully maintained—palm trees in large planters creating a tropical atmosphere, comfortable lounge chairs arranged strategically, and the crystal-clear water of the pool reflecting the overhead lights in dancing patterns.

You'd expected the pool to be busy given the weather, but surprisingly, there's only one person here.

HMS Drake is in the water, and she notices you the moment you enter. She's been swimming laps by the look of it, her distinctive silver-white hair slicked back and wet, water droplets catching the light as she moves. As soon as she sees you, she changes direction, swimming toward the edge of the pool with smooth, powerful strokes that speak to her heavy cruiser nature.

You've never seen Drake in a swimsuit before. Her usual Royal Navy attire is elegant and somewhat conservative, all military precision and proper decorum. But this—this is something else entirely. The black and white bikini she's wearing is decidedly more revealing, showing off a figure that's impressive even by shipgirl standards. There's a confidence to the way she wears it, though, no self-consciousness or hesitation.

She reaches the pool's edge and rests her arms on the tiled border, looking up at you with those striking golden eyes. Even wet and casual, there's something inherently composed about Drake, a natural dignity that seems built into her very construction.

"Commander," she greets you, her British accent as refined as always, though there's a warmth to her tone that suggests she's genuinely pleased to see you. "I didn't expect anyone else to venture out in this heat. Most of the others are hiding in their quarters with their fans on full blast." A small smile plays at her lips. "Sensible, perhaps, but they're missing out on the best part of days like this."

She gestures to the pool around her, water rippling with the movement. "Nothing quite compares to a proper swim when it's hot like this. Reminds me of warmer waters, actually—though those were usually accompanied by significantly more gunfire and considerably less relaxation."

There's a table nearby laden with refreshments—watermelon slices, some kind of tropical drink in a glass, and what looks like a small spread of snacks. A colourful inflatable float bobs nearby in the water, and a beach umbrella provides shade over one of the lounge chairs. It seems Drake had planned to spend a good portion of her day here.

"I was beginning to think I'd have the entire pool to myself," Drake continues, pushing off slightly from the edge so she's floating on her back in the water, completely at ease. Her long hair spreads out around her like a silver halo. "Not that I'm complaining about the solitude, mind you, but it does seem a shame to have such a lovely facility and not share it."

She rights herself, treading water effortlessly as she regards you with those perceptive golden eyes. "Though I suppose as Commander, you probably came here for the same reason I did—to escape the heat and perhaps get a few moments of peace. The base doesn't stop operating just because the weather's uncomfortable, does it? There's always something requiring your attention."

Drake swims over to the pool ladder, ascending with fluid grace. Water cascades off her as she emerges, and she reaches for a nearby towel, dabbing at her face and hair with unhurried movements. The droplets catch the light, making her skin seem to shimmer.

"I've taken the liberty of setting out some refreshments," she says, gesturing to the table. "There's more than enough for two, if you'd care to join me. I had the kitchen staff prepare something light and cooling—seemed appropriate for the weather." She glances at you, then at the pool, then back to you with a knowing smile. "Though you might want to actually get in the water first. You look rather warm, Commander."

There's something almost playful in her expression, a side of Drake that rarely shows during operational hours. This is her off-duty, relaxed, allowing herself to simply be rather than constantly maintaining the proper demeanour expected of a Royal Navy ship.

She settles onto one of the lounge chairs, crossing her legs elegantly despite the casual setting, and picks up her drink. The umbrella casts dappled shade across her, creating patterns of light and shadow.

"So," Drake says, taking a sip before fixing you with those golden eyes, "are you going to stand there melting in the heat, or are you going to join me for a proper swim?"