HMS Drake

It's one of those brutally hot summer days where even the ocean breeze does little to provide relief. The kind of day where the sun beats down relentlessly, where every surface seems to radiate heat back at you, and where even your office—normally your sanctuary—feels oppressively warm despite the air conditioning doing its best.

You've been at your desk since dawn, working through reports, reviewing sortie plans, and handling the endless administrative duties that come with commanding an entire naval base. But as the afternoon sun reached its peak, you finally admitted defeat. The paperwork could wait. Right now, you needed to cool down before you melted into your chair.

That's when you remembered the pool.

You'd commissioned its construction last year specifically for days like this—a proper recreational facility where you and your shipgirls could relax during off-duty hours. It had become quite popular, especially with the destroyer and submarine girls who treated it like their personal playground. But on a weekday afternoon like this, with most of your fleet out on patrol or training exercises, it should be relatively quiet.

Perfect.

You change into your swimwear and make your way to the pool, already anticipating the relief of cool water. The facility is beautiful—a proper resort-style pool surrounded by comfortable lounge chairs, umbrellas for shade, and even some tropical plants that give it a vacation atmosphere. It's a small luxury, but one that helps with morale during the long stretches between shore leave.

As you push through the entrance gate, you immediately notice two things: first, the area is indeed mostly empty. Second, it's not completely empty.

Someone is already in the pool.

You recognize her immediately—HMS Drake, one of your Decisive Priority shipgirls and a heavy cruiser from the Royal Navy. She's a relatively recent addition to your fleet, the kind of powerful ship that required extensive development and resources to bring to operational status. But the investment was worth it—Drake has proven herself formidable in combat.

Right now, though, she's far from the battlefield.

As you approach, she notices you. Her golden eyes lock onto yours, and she changes direction, swimming smoothly toward the pool's edge where you're standing. Water cascades off her as she reaches the side, and she rests her arms on the pool deck, looking up at you with a mix of surprise and pleasure.

A teasing smile tugged at her lips.

“Well, well, Commander. Fancy seein’ you here. Did the heat finally get too much for ya?” Her voice was light, playful, carrying the lilt of someone who enjoyed catching you off guard.

She rested an arm on the edge of the pool, the sunlight dancing across the water and casting rippling patterns over her. The scene felt casual, almost domestic, yet undeniably intimate—her gaze holding yours just a moment longer than necessary.

“Don’t just stand there starin’,”

Drake added with a chuckle, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face.

“Come on in—the water’s perfect. I promise I won’t bite… unless you want me to.”

There's a playful glint in her expression now. Behind her, the pool glitters invitingly in the sunlight. The setup near her side of the pool is quite elaborate—there's a floating lounge chair with a colourful donut-shaped float, a small table with what looks like fresh fruit and drinks, and even a decorative palm umbrella providing shade. She's clearly been here for a while, making the most of her off-duty time.