[ Jawoon is not, at this point in his career, unused to the feeling of eyes on him. Both because of his importance, and—he recognizes that God has blessed him with good looks, in a classic sort of way. 'A Korean G.I. Joe', one of his Yankee friends in the Camp Humphreys administration had said; he doesn't disagree with the comparison to America's Fighting Man, though flattery's never gotten anyone anything with him. His outward appearance has made life easier, has made him more palatable to the public without all of the plastic surgery the latest recruits' much more effeminate generation of men increasingly resorts to.
This guy's either eyeing his uniform—he's probably American, so he probably recognizes what the stars on his collar tabs mean—and wondering how in the hell someone like him ended up somewhere like here (he's wondering that too), or brazenly checking him out in a way that would be unthinkable outside of this city's libertine environment. Yet to be determined.
He doesn't mind the attention, truth be told; he wouldn't have gotten very far in the Army if he was affronted by being noticed by other men. He hasn't ever really given a shit who fucks who in the barracks either, as long as they're discreet and don't make it the Army's problem—most if it's just horseplay between guys who have gone too long without seeing their girlfriends, anyway, not real sodomy. ]
You're welcome to come enjoy the shade.
[ The bench on the other side of the canopied picnic table he's sitting at is empty, after all, and he'd look like an ass not offering when this guy's standing out in the sun. He has an image to maintain. ]
cw canon/army-typical (internalized) homophobia
This guy's either eyeing his uniform—he's probably American, so he probably recognizes what the stars on his collar tabs mean—and wondering how in the hell someone like him ended up somewhere like here (he's wondering that too), or brazenly checking him out in a way that would be unthinkable outside of this city's libertine environment. Yet to be determined.
He doesn't mind the attention, truth be told; he wouldn't have gotten very far in the Army if he was affronted by being noticed by other men. He hasn't ever really given a shit who fucks who in the barracks either, as long as they're discreet and don't make it the Army's problem—most if it's just horseplay between guys who have gone too long without seeing their girlfriends, anyway, not real sodomy. ]
You're welcome to come enjoy the shade.
[ The bench on the other side of the canopied picnic table he's sitting at is empty, after all, and he'd look like an ass not offering when this guy's standing out in the sun. He has an image to maintain. ]