The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 238

Chapter 238: 238 | A Catalog of Combat-Ready Curves [GT BONUS]

Halloran’s uniform designers had clearly made some choices about how the female version of the standard issue would fit, and those choices were now on full display across the common room like some kind of catalog that nobody had asked for but everyone was grateful to receive.

The white fitted shirt was the same cut for everyone, but on bodies that had been training since childhood for combat operations, the results varied dramatically from person to person.

Camille stood near the kitchen island with one hand on her hip, her blazer unbuttoned to reveal the way her fitted shirt handled her chest, which was generously and with visible strain on the top two buttons.

Her dark curly hair fell loose around her shoulders, and the charcoal skirt she’d chosen instead of trousers ended several inches above her knee, showcasing thick thighs that her hours of training had carved into something weapons-grade.

She held a coffee cup in one hand and her phone in the other, and the casual way she leaned against the counter made the entire composition look like a recruitment poster for reasons that had nothing to do with heroism.

Felicity occupied the couch next to Caden, her legs crossed in a way that drew the eye from ankle to thigh before the skirt intervened at the last possible moment.

She’d left her blazer draped over the armrest, and the white shirt she wore beneath it was unbuttoned one notch lower than regulation probably intended, revealing a strip of collarbone and the suggestion of pink lace beneath.

Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose side ponytail that fell over one shoulder, and the single silver collar pin at her left collar caught light whenever she turned her head to laugh at something Caden said.

Rina sat in her usual corner chair with her sheep mug, and even she looked transformed by the uniform. The blazer softened her horns somehow, made them look like they belonged rather than intruded, and the white shirt fit close enough against her chest that I could see the gentle rise and fall of her breathing from across the room.

Her white hair contrasted with the charcoal fabric in a way that made her look ethereal and warm simultaneously, and her sheep tail poked out through what appeared to be a custom slit in the back of her skirt, the fluffy white tuft resting against the dark fabric of the chair.

Nyx leaned against the far wall with her arms crossed, her bobbed black hair sharp against the white collar of her shirt. She’d chosen the skirt option as well, and her fishnet stockings were technically not part of the uniform but apparently fell within whatever dress code Halloran maintained, because nobody had told her to remove them.

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