SHARPE'S TEA ⚔ WRITTEN | VOICE | ACTION

[greenjacketed]

[ he's snug in a corner of the tea shop, with both a brew and a book in hand. the tea is strong; it's uncreamed and unsweetened, and yet it still somehow lacks the bite he's grown accustomed to through flanders, portugal, and spain. instead, this mug is as lightly spiced as the mugs he'd nursed on lonely nights in india. he'd been so much younger, then. and so much more foolish.

another sip and then it's time to get to it. in practice, his message has an intended audince of very few. but fear of his own sentimentality demands that he not approach anyone directly. and so he writes publicly, his script slanty and rough. unpracticed. it takes him a long time to carve out even a brief sentence: ]

Won't be around for a few days --- heading out, took the bloody shilling, got orders to march, &ct.
-- MJR R. SHARPE

[ he loops his pencil 'round the ampersand a few more times, chagrined by its childish slopes. he's no writer. not by any man's account. he's a soldier, he thinks. he knows when to kill and when not to kill, although that line was painfully blurred on the just-passed draft. he should know how to follow orders and protect the colours. but what on earth is a soldiering man to do with orders he didn't understand and no colours to speak of? it gives him a notion. a question, at least.

switching to voice: ] I suppose the village does not have a flag of its own, eh? Don't seeem proper. Perhaps it would've done no good in that last [ shit-hole/dungheap/disaster ] battle. But in future...?

[ he hesitates. he waits. and he lives his day as anxiously as any other day spent waiting to be deployed. a mission, this time? aye. perhaps it'll sooth his nerves and erase from his mind the bloody great cock-up of vaskoth. finally -- if the journal or the tea-shop won't do, feel free to encounter him elsewhere. he's bound to be in good spirits come the evening -- but he bloody well won't drink a drop. not the night before. ]

Comments

[the_other_leblanc]

Would you prefer to have an insincere apology now and a sincere one once I am my proper age and can recall how it was I caused offence, Major Sharpe?

[greenjacketed]

[ he'd prefer that it had never happened in the first place. sharpe isn't secretive about his past as a flogged soldier, but he'd never had anyone make such a farce of it as adele had done. it isn't even for his own sake that he remains indignant. he'd long ago overcome his ill-earned punishment. no, it's for all the other flogged regiments. the poor south essex when he'd first met them. harper. every other poor sod who'd had his ribs opened up to the gun-metal sky, drums beating out the lash count.

every unfortunate bastard who -- in the aftermath -- had been served sharpe's special: a pint of best rum. half-and-half. half in your belly...and half on your back.

stiffly: ] You -- yerself now and yer older self -- will find that I can, on a rare occasion, be a patient man.

[ i'll wait for my apology. a fresh face and an amnesiac's conscience would not appease his righteous anger. ]

[the_other_leblanc]

[There isn't much Adele knows of military men aside from that they are due a measure more of respect than the average civilian. Bad enough she's offended him- but it seems as though she truly put her foot in it with whatever it was she'd said. Will say.

Contemplating the specifics of it would only give her a migraine.

She ducks her head- facing her mistakes wasn't something she handles well.]

Far more patient than I am likely to deserve.

[greenjacketed]

Aye. With an attitude like that? Aye.

[ for in sharpe's world, if you did not deserve someone's patience than you damn well should have the common sense not to say it. self-pity, that's what that was. but he'd been raised in a system that demanded obedience -- at least verbally. yes sir no sir three bags full sir. ]

[the_other_leblanc]

I'll not strain it with my continued presence, then.

[There's no real fire to her, not outside of her classes. She's tired most of the time, prefers solitude when she can manage it. Being left to learn of her older self's indiscretions and possibly worsen them isn't something she wants to do. Not really.]

[greenjacketed]

[ grudgingly: ] Just bloody well look after your aggravatin' self, miss.

[ for sharpe has his marching orders and he's off to do what he does best. kill and kill again. ]

[the_other_leblanc]

So long as I keep my head down and hold my tongue I may very well manage it, Major.

[She leaves her glass on an empty table and starts for the door. She didn't need the drink anyway.]

Have a good evening.

[greenjacketed]

For your sake, I hope you're back to rights by the time I've returned...

[ it's a quiet message. a way to let the woman know that he was leaving, so she needn't be kept in the dark upon the moment she reverts to here older self.

it's only polite -- and otherwise he's left to lift his glass in a silent salute. ]

[the_other_leblanc]

[She should keep walking. It isn't any of her business that he's leaving. There is no reason whatsoever for her to be curious, and less reason for her to act upon that curiosity.

And yet...

Merde.

She pauses not far from him, kicks herself for it, and turns to regard him.]

...how long is it that you will be away?

[Neutral enough.]

[greenjacketed]

[ he's still on his feet. but -- at least -- he drains his glass. the carbonation burns his tongue. ]

A few days, lass. That's all. Just a quick jaunt to straighten out some rebellous folk and we'll be back in less time than it takes for a loaf of bread to go off.

[the_other_leblanc]

If the old pattern continues, I'll likely yet be young upon your return. If it has changed as much as it seems to I may be as you remember.

[Honestly, she hopes that this is over and done with soon. This continued hopping about has become more draining than it has fascinating.]

You will be [Careful could be insulting, capable was presumptuous, and there's a reason she does not go out of her way to speak to many people.] cautious. Yes?

[Rebellions did not tend to go smooth.]

[greenjacketed]

...I'll be a soldier, Miss Adele. No more and no less.

[ understatement, really. ]

[the_other_leblanc]

[That should be enough. Is enough, really and she's slow in her reply. Choosing her words carefully.]

The two are not quite so mutually exclusive, are they?

[greenjacketed]

I suppose that depends on the orders.

[ for there are men ordered to their deaths, in war-time. not just chance-deaths or maybe-deaths. certain-deaths.

forlorn hopes. ]

[the_other_leblanc]

They...may not be so dire if it is so small a thing you are being sent to handle.

[But things had a habit of escalating- at least in what she knew of rebellion and history. It wasn't much, what she knows, but it's enough for her to be wary.]

[greenjacketed]

That is a hope that I share with you, Miss Adele. I've taken and I've defended small towns before; let us look forward to this on being no more than that.

[the_other_leblanc]

I am not at all certain what it will be worth, Major but...I do hope you return safely.

[greenjacketed]

[ why -- he wonders -- are the french so bleeding impossible? only children -- children younger than this version of her -- and the self-pitying tend to preface well wishes with their own lack of salvation.

sharpe fights to suppress his scowl. ] Aye. Me, as well. Grown damned well attached to the place, I'm afraid.

[the_other_leblanc]

[Not all the French, just this one. Well. Perhaps most of the French. A good portion of the French...alright all of the French.

Her back straightens a bit at the tightening of his expression.]

That is understandable, despite it's strangeness this place can be somewhat endearing.

[greenjacketed]

And you truly remember nothing of your proper stay here?

[ because he's impressed if it's managed to endear itself to her,otherwise. ]

[the_other_leblanc]

Flashes, now and then. Nothing coherent, nothing that lingers.

[Nothing horribly pleasant as of late either.]

[greenjacketed]

...Can't say whether that's for the best or not, Miss Adele.

[the_other_leblanc]

What little I am told is vague and ominous. I am not certain what to make of it.

[greenjacketed]

Do you mind...do you mind me asking what it is you have been told, ma'am?

[the_other_leblanc]

Not to ask, more often than not. To not worry because I and those I know have come out alive in the end.