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

[stillplaying]

[She hears the knock at the door, having not strayed very far from her initial seat on the couch. The pen she had flung across the room still sits against the other wall. She sits with her knees clutched to her chest. Sulking. Something she's so very good at, even if it has been a couple of weeks since she's had a reason to do so.

It might be petty and vindictive, but she makes him way a minute or so before she finally does get up from the couch and slowly walk in the direction of the door. She opens it and steps aside to let him in all without saying a word.

Still sulking.]

[greenjacketed]

[ all the calm and understanding he'd been trying to scrounge together during his wait on her front step evaporates when he sees her in a sulk. ]

Bloody hell, lass!

[ he erupts almost immediately into a string of familiar invectives. all of them directed as his inability to sooth a young girl's bruised ego. and bruised it had every right to be, he supposes. for he went back over the question and he can see his diplomatic failure.

sharpe strides across the front room, not bothering to remove his boots. some people, he notices, did that in this place. not him. nope. not today. ]

You, Katniss. You...cook for me. Bloody often. And I -- [ am grateful. just say it, ]

Dammit, girl.

[stillplaying]

[It's instinct that makes her hand twitch at his sudden cursing, brushing by her belt where her dressing knife normally hangs. A second later, even as his string of incentives continues, she feels instantly guilty. This is Richard. For all he might be angry at her now, and she him, he wouldn't hurt her.

Then again, she once thought the same of Peeta.

But there's been no indication of another shift. No reason to be suspicious of him. Her cheeks flush in embarrassment and she lets the door swing shut behind him. She doesn't care about boots on the floor; her own muddy hunting boots aren't often removed until she reaches her bedroom.

She's just embarrassed. By her own reaction. By his stammering.]

You give me a share of the meat you hunt in return. [It's still that simple to her.] A fair trade.

[greenjacketed]

It's ain't a fair trade and I'm the bastard who knows it. You do more for me than...than-- [ he sighs. he rubs a hand through his hair. ]

Hoped to do this different-like, lass. But I was wanting you to come over for dinner. Soon. Properly. With another guest and all. Something you didn't have to cook, for once.

[stillplaying]

[Her arms cross over her chest as she listens to him respond. Or at least attempt to respond. She doesn't understand why he's protesting the fair trade. Doesn't want to. She's not a nice person, doesn't do nice things for others.

And even if meat in return for meals wasn't fair, he also gives her company. That counts too, doesn't it?

Maybe it's the fading hurt and anger, but she can't help but greet his response with slight suspicion.]

Why?

[greenjacketed]

[ it's embarrassing to admit this. ]

Just as a means of being bloody well nice and appreciative of you, Katniss!

[ and maybe also to ingratiate himself with a woman. ]

[stillplaying]

[As embarrassing as it might be for him to admit to this, it's as confusing and embarrassing for Katniss to hear it. She's still not used to people wanting to do nice things for her just because.

Not used to it at all.]

Oh.

[greenjacketed]

And it'd be bloody stupid of me to ask you to teach me how to cook a decent meal only to serve it back to yourself, eh? [ ... ] It should be...special.

[stillplaying]

[She still feels awkward, embarrassed. There's no reason why Richard should go to this trouble for her. Not when he doesn't know how to cook. It's too much work. More than she deserves.]

You don't have to do any of this.

[greenjacketed]

[ sheepishly, he recalls their chocolate-induced conversation up in the mountains. secrets and fears and loves and griefs all poured out in one rush of words. she knew more about him, now, than he'd care to admit. and the things she told him...

sharpe breathes deep. ] I don't hafta. But I want to, lass. Besides, I've another woman to invite and if she has half a brain in her pretty little head? She won't come if you're not also in attendance. It's only proper, you see?

So by letting me do this for you, you're as good as doing something for me. It's still fair. It's still even.

[stillplaying]

[She looks up when he mentions the other woman. That she might need another in attendance makes little sense to her. That's not how any kind of courtship is done in District 12. There's no need for chaperons. The thought that one must be required is almost silly.

But the idea of a trade isn't. Fair is fair. That's something that puts her at ease. And even crack a slight smile.]

Okay.

[greenjacketed]

[ he rubs at the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious. ]

It's Faith. The lass with the brother in the navy. [ and suddenly, he feels desperate for katniss to approve of the gentle-mannered admiral's daughter. another thing to worry about. ]

[stillplaying]

[She remembers him mentioning the woman. Mostly, though, she remembers their conversation on the water-based navy. But she nods regardless. This isn't about the navy right now.

It's about a girl. And...]

How did you do it? How did you get over Grace?

[greenjacketed]

[ ...the question shocks him. he'd half been hoping that what had happened on that mountain would stay there, neglected aloud. so he sucks in a breath and gives his head a gentle shake. ]

Not sure I ever did. Not sure you ever do. But threw myself into being a soldier. And I met someone else, Katniss. She'd only just lost her husband; we had plenty in common. [ but then he'd left astrid behind in copenhagan and...

his mouth is a line. ] And then I met someone else after that. And someone else again. I didn't love'em all the same, but I at least loved'em some.

[stillplaying]

[She looks up at him, the gratitude clear in her eyes. He didn't have to answer that question. She knew just how personal a question it was. He's a lot like her in that way, isn't he? Not being good at opening up.

It's why Katniss likes spending time about Richard. There's no pressure to be open or friendly. It's relaxed, much like her friendship with Madge had once been.

She nods slowly, thinking.] But you knew it'd hurt if you lost them. Why would you want that?

[greenjacketed]

[ he grabs himself a seat, sitting comfortably although his emotions were anything but comfortable. ]

I buried Grace years ago. I won't forget her, aye. And I won't forget that pain. Won't forget the pain of losing any of'em. But no matter how much it hurts when they pass on or if they leave a man or betray him, it doesn't compare to how good it feels to be with them.

[ then, not wanting katniss to think he only meant it sexually: ] They made me happy. Each one. Only, before Grace, I'm not sure I'd ever loved anyone quite that way. There were women, of course. And some I'd ask to marry me and some who'd leave when a better man came along. But it never hurt so bad. It never felt so good, neither.

I have Grace to thank for teaching me, y'see, that love's a beautiful and worthwhile thing. I can't imagine she'd want me lonely in her wake. Her nor Teresa neither.

[stillplaying]

[She stays standing against the wall, feeling too uncomfortable and too fidgety to take a seat. She wishes she had an arrow to play with, something to keep her hands busy as he talks. Because as much as she needs to hear this, needs some sort of answer to the questions that have been plaguing her, it does make her uncomfortable.

Love, sex, all of it. Emotions. She hates them sometimes.

Katniss looks down when Richard finishes talking, thinking on everything he's just said.]

I'd want Peeta to move on. I want him to be happy.

[greenjacketed]

If Peeta's worth his salt, as you say he is, then he'd want the same for you. At the very least, he'd want you to find some way to be happy. It don't have to be like that.

[stillplaying]

[She blinks a little in confusion. She had been following him, for the most part, up until his last sentence.]

Like what?

[greenjacketed]

Like love of the romantic variety, lass. It don't always have to be with a strapping lad. [ sure, sharpe's never happy unless he's in love -- but he's known people to be content just with friends and family. ] Other things could make you happy.

[stillplaying]

[She can't sing anymore, the one thing that had really helped get her through that trail. Through Prim's death. And hunting numbs the pain more than anything else. Something that makes her happy. Something other than Peeta.

She's not sure that exists.]

I don't know.