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

[handing]

[Oh, so is that how it's going to be? Pepper presses her lips together to hide her grin, slowly nodding as she considers that.]

You know, you might be right. I'm sure any number of people that are far more experienced in cooking could give you advice. Of course, who knows how much time you'll need to find one of them, and then you could be rushing to get everything finished because of how long it could take, but I'm sure you'll be fine.

[Said with all the sweetness and innocence in the world, of course.]

[greenjacketed]

...The lady plays a tough game, I see.

[ he can respect that. ] Tell me, then, lass? What wine would you -- err -- serve? With pheasant?

[handing]

I've had some practice. [see: her boyfriend.]

Something red. [At least it seems to be a solid choice from what Pepper's seen on menus.] But you can probably get away with a blush if she wants something sweeter.

[greenjacketed]

...A blush, Pepper?

[handing]

[Oh Richard.  Forced to learn all sorts of things today.]  A blend of a red and white wine.  It’s lighter in color, so it’s called a blush.

[greenjacketed]

...Sounds proper rancid, if you ask me.

[handing]

I'm just pointing out your options. [And getting a certain amusement from doing so; she's still grinning.] You're the one who's going to decide what you serve.

[greenjacketed]

...It's be much easier if proper ladies would deign to drink gin, y'know.

[ not that sharpe much liked gin himself, but all the lasses back in the rookery drank it. ]

[handing]

Have you asked if she does? You’re the one who brought up wine.

[And while it is standard on most of Pepper’s date nights, she’s also a fan of cocktails. So, sorry Sharpe. No easy excuses.]

[greenjacketed]

Don't need to ask. Gin's not normally fit for the tongue of someone so fine. It's a drink for the muck, you see.

[handing]

And because she’s a lady, she can’t be deigned to drink anything below her station? [It’s a half-serious question, accompanied by a curious look.]

[greenjacketed]

...I've lived among gin-queens -- [ he smiles. ] They're a breed apart. But I'm not sure Miss Faith Long would care to hear about my past associations.

[ and yet? telling pepper was a-okay. go figure. ]

[handing]

[Pepper figures it boils down to the fact that he's making dinner for one, and not the other.]

Probably a smart choice. [The bit about not sharing associations.] But my point is, don't assume that a woman doesn't like something that's considered lower class just because she's a lady. Not that you shouldn't be polite, but it could turn out that she likes things that might surprise you--including gin.

[greenjacketed]

I would be very surprised, aye. But if it's all the same to you, I might put off asking until the second dinner. Aye?

[handing]

[She laughs then, shaking her head.]
 
Major, this is your date.  You really don’t need my permission.

[greenjacketed]

Only your advice, ma'am. Pepper. For which I swear I'm more grateful for than I look.

[handing]

In that case, you’re welcome. [In truth Pepper’s accounted most of Richard’s half of the conversation to nerves; it’s clear he wants to do this well, and she can appreciate how that desire makes a person behave in both good and bad ways.] So we’ve talked about what food and drink you’re thinking about serving. Anything else on your mind?

[greenjacketed]

...Well? I've no chance of rustlin' up some servants, do I?

[ sheepish, once again. thought an officer was permitted to keep a servant, sharpe never bothered with it. but now he wondered... ]

[handing]

Probably not, unless you come up with some absolutely fantastic bribe. [It worked for Tony, anyway.

But the mention of servants along with the woman’s name has something clicking in Pepper’s mind.] Wait…is this the same woman who keeps asking for a house maid over the journals?

[greenjacketed]

That's her. [ a brief smile. ] She's chasing dreams, she is. I know it, but I haven't the heart to tell her. She'll learn for herself, soon enough.

[handing]

Well, it might not be too farfetched.  Tony and I have someone who helps around our house.  [Someone Tony managed to charm, although Billy really isn’t just in it for the chance to polish Iron Man’s armor.]  But those are sort of unique circumstances.

[greenjacketed]

Unique?

[ he questions. interested. ]

[handing]

He's a fan of Tony's. Well, of superheroes in general, but Tony has his armor--[Which Richard may not know a thing about, Pepper realizes partway through.] His suit that he wears when he's trying to save people. Billy agreed to do chores for Tony before I got here, in exchange for the chance to polish the armor.

[greenjacketed]

...Is the boy daft?

[ to become a bodyman just for the chance to clean someone's breastplate and helmet? because, yes, armour is a word he knows. but not in the way pepper means it. ]

[handing]

[Oh, poor Billy. Pepper hopes his ears aren't burning.]

No, no! [She laughs at Sharpe's skepticism, although it probably does sound a little extreme. Or a lot. She'd thought so to, when she'd first heard about the arrangement.] It's just--well. It's a little like you making dinner for Faith. She's someone you admire and want to spend time with, so you're stepping out of your comfort zone to do something nice for her. Billy's intentions aren't romantic like yours are, but it's similar.