SHARPE'S MEAL ⚔ WRITTEN | ACTION

[greenjacketed]

[ after the public relations disaster of his last broadcast, sharpe has since kept his journal under a sort of imprisonment: tied shut with leather straps and stuffed in a cloth sack, that sack being knotted as well. but today he gingerly picks it from its incarceration and flicks through its pages until he settles upon one he likes. and then sharpe picks up his pencil.

he writes three messages. as ever, his handwriting is scrawlish, ill-practised, and riddled with errors. none are filtered, although only the first is intended for community consumption:]

LUCETI -- I need to speak with someone who can cook a des--deecdecent meal. [ ugh this is borderline humiliating someone shoot him and put him out of his misery. ] Frogs need not apply, beecuz I don't want the lot to taste like cheese and garlik.

KATNISS -- I'm coming by before 12. We have our wager to settle.

MISS FAITH LONG -- might a man call on you this afternoon?

-- R. SHARPE

[ OTHERWISE the man can be found staring disconsolately at grocery items. some of these things have never before been seen by eyes such as his. in fact, some of these things look barely edible. sharpe's been in luceti for a year, but he just about never goes to the grocery shop -- not when he has katniss looking after him with her stew. not when he can still shoot his own game. but today brings his boots squarely inside this devil's shop. as he browses, he mutters: ] Bloody hell...

[ LATER, sharpe has taken up a sentry position at the bar in good spirits. he's drinking watered down brandy because he can't afford to get drunk tonight. he's on the lookout for a certain fire-haired giant of a man. ganondorf. for it occurs to sharpe that he doesn't know where he lives, only that he's often seen at the bar. so he waits. ]

Comments

written

[not_a_troll]

I shall provide you a good meal and teach you how to spell. That is what friends are for, yes?

Yes! :-)))

[greenjacketed]

[ OH JESUS BLOODY WEPT NOT YOU AGAIN, BOY. ]

Don't need the thing pro-vide-d [ this word comes stiltingly as he copies it from loki's message above ] I need to know how to cook it.

[ also what the hell are those incomprehensible symbols at the end. dashes? parentheses? a colon? sharpe squints at it. ]

[not_a_troll]

I will provide you with that knowledge as well. I am very generous, you see? Shall I bring my shaken milk machine as well?

[Loki can use the distraction.]

[greenjacketed]

[ oh what the heck. truth be told, the boy seems do to alright in the socializing department. he's way more outgoing than sharpe himself is.

and -- just sometimes -- maybe sharpe is a sucker for spoiling kids.

but he can't give in too easily: ] Does it make a mess? This machine?

written

[fleurdesel]

We don't drown everything in cream and butter, Sharpe.

-Adele

[greenjacketed]

[ hmm. ]

But I don't see you as arguing against the cheese or the garlik.

[fleurdesel]

Others might. I don't. Too easy to burn.

[greenjacketed]

---

[ a scribbled line. he doesn't really know what else to say to the woman. bah. though -- come to think about it -- he hasn't seen her 'round lately. so maybe...

he scrawls some more: ]

You doing alright, miss?

[written]

[stillplaying]

[She had hoped that he had forgotten about the that. She herself had just about forgotten that discussion they had weeks ago. And it was weeks ago, wasn't it? Not the months that it feels more like. Damn shifts. Why do they always make things more complicated?

She scowls before replying, thankful that this isn't a video feed. She reaches for her pen and begins to scribble a response. It's a crabby sort of writing, quick and impatient.]

I can cook a decent meal.

[written]

[greenjacketed]

[ christ. he hadn't meant--

sharpe chews the tip of his pencil. ] You cook a meal well beyond decent, Katniss. [ he takes a gentler tack but doesn't yet clarify: ] Can I visit?

[ asking, now, instead of stating. ]

[written]

[stillplaying]

[She doesn't care about that. About him asking if he could visit or just stopping by. He gave her a time. It's not as if she has so much going on in her life that she can't make certain to be home at noon. The message had reached her early enough.

But whether he meant to or not, he had insulted her pride. There really weren't many things she felt remotely confident in that didn't involve killing. And with singing no longer an option, all she had was her passing skills at an edible stew.]

You're not looking for my help. Why would you want to stop by?

[written]

[greenjacketed]

[ thank goodness the journal's stuck on written, 'cause sharpe mutters of an impressive string of invectives as he agonizes over his reply. ]

Reasons. I'm interested in you for more than just your help. [ bah. this is pointless. he scribbles something else: ] I'll see you at your place.

[dragmire]

[Ganondorf has his own interests in Richard Sharpe tonight. So upon seeing the messages in the journal, he appropriates a similar usage and leaves it for the man at some point in the evening, well into when the major has begun his wait.]

R. SHARPE - Southermost bridge, midnight.

--GANONDORF

[greenjacketed]

...He'd left his journal open on the bar, eyeing it with twinned apprehension and eagerness. Somehow, he'd hoped for a message from someone else even so late into the evening. The man was growing mad for the Admiral's daughter. Even still, he found himself sinking in the realization that -- should she be dragged into one of those terrible conflicts -- he might not have the capability to protect her. Last draft, there were some moments where he'd barely been able to extricate himself from tight corners. To lead a lady through that madness as well---

Ah. His mouth twitched into something not-quite-a-smile when Ganondorf's message flickered over the page. Perhaps his waiting felt a little wasted, but all the same Sharpe enjoyed the quiet murmur of the pub around his ears. He exchanged a few courteous words with Sparrow's woman and downed his watered brandy.

Although he wasn't anticipating a fight nor any animosity at all, he walked with his rifle not slung upon his shoulder but tucked readily under an elbow. Although this left his palm resting gently upon the hammer, he didn't anticipate having to cock the thing in the near future. No, it was merely a comfort to a man who didn't get to shoot it often enough. And -- sure enough -- when he arrived at the southernmost bridge at midnight, he eased his fingers off the rifle's mechanics and gripped it instead with a fist.

He glanced up. "...'S a bit covert of you, ain't it?"

[dragmire]

Ganondorf's hands were rested on the railing as he stared into the water. Though he noted the arrival of the major, he did not turn to greet him. It was a cool night and he was enjoying the cool breeze.

"For tonight, we require secrecy and solitude."

[greenjacketed]

"We do, do we?"

Hmmph. Although he felt little affection towards anything that stank of both cloaks and daggers, Sharpe made no move to turn away. He'd shaken on it, hadn't he? And now was no time for cold feet. But he did feel a little like his younger self, standing on deck and watching the Danish coastline roll by. That had been all for cloaks and daggers too, it had. And look at how it had ended: promotion, albeit with heartache. A man's murder and a cracked open city.

"Ain't gonna be chanting, is there? Can't abide by chanting. Very Catholic, it is."

[action]

[handing]

At least it's in a better condition than the last time we were here together?

[Pepper speaks up from behind Richard near the entrance to the grocery. The circumstances are definitely much improved, as the shelves are decently stocked this time; the Malnosso supply lines remain secure. Pepper won't complain about it, but it seems that the Major has some issue with the situation.]

Something you need help with?

[action]

[greenjacketed]

Miss Potts.

[ he glances leftwards at the woman -- surprised, but not unpleasantly so. give him a moment and he might even smile. ]

My problem, ma'am, is I don't even know where to start gettin' help.

Re: [action]

[handing]

Major Sharpe.

[Wow, a smile? She’s flattered.]

There may be an easy solution to that. What do you need help with? [Pepper stops by the grocery store pretty regularly; if he’s just looking for something, she might know where it is.]

[Written]

[knightofratatosk]

Do you need someone to cook for you?

[Written]

[greenjacketed]

No -- need to cook for someone else.

[ short. telegraphed sentences. ]

[Written]

[knightofratatosk]

Oh, I understand. I could teach you if that's what you want, or you could always just go get food from Seventh Heaven.

written: (can we pretend I am not WOEFULLY late?)

[charitylovehopefaith]

Mister Sharpe,

That would be delightful. I shall look forward to it.

Miss Long

[Formal for now. She hasn't yet forgotten the young woman he mentioned. So, best to be cautious for the time being, reserved.]

action.

[greenjacketed]

[ with permission given, he knocks on her door at the appropriate moment. visions of pheasants and wine are dancing in his head. ]

action.

[charitylovehopefaith]

Hello, Major.

[Her voice is warm. For all her reservations about the young lady he mentioned, he is still a friend in this odd place, a beacon of the familiar amidst chaos. To be anything less than sincerely congenial to him would be a disservice to them both.]

Do come in, please.