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

[fleurdesel]

Tarte Normande. I'll prepare one for you, unless each lady needs one of her own.

[greenjacketed]

...And it will be good?

[ the reheated chicken at adele's place had been more than edible, but the woman doesn't exactly gush confidence about her own culinary skills. so it seems fit enough to ask. ]

[fleurdesel]

May I live to be a thousand and never hear or speak my native tongue again. It will be good.

[Pheasant may have thrown her but this? This she knows, has known for a long while, and has served to a god to his satisfaction. His company will enjoy it.]

[greenjacketed]

Heaven help any of us should we live so long. [ it's an idle thought, idly written. still -- he wonders if it's somehow cheating to have someone else do the work for him?

eh. his conscience is not troubled by cutting this corner. even still: ] I will requisition the stuff with you -- [ another five-dollar wound scrawled without hesitation. ]

[fleurdesel]

If we live that long there's almost certainly no kind heaven, Richard.

[She's already making a list- the English are disciplined but this Frog is organized enough to get what she needs and only what she needs to assist Sharpe in his plans, whatever they might be.]

I'll meet you in the plaza.

[greenjacketed]

[ he checks the watch the same frog had gifted him, judging his time. aye. a while yet before he had to go capture katniss's ear. ]

I will be there.

[ and, true to his word, he turns up in punctual fashion. he doesn't wear his greatcoat today, but he is once again in his rifles uniform; however, its tatters and worn out elbows are mended. lost buttons have been replaced. it doesn't look perfectly new, but it looks as though it's been tended to.

when he sees her approach, he pushes to his feet -- forsaking the seat he'd taken by the fountain. ]

[fleurdesel]

[She makes good time, enough so that he's not made to wait for her long. Stable in the weather Adele's tucked and bundled her petite frame against the cold in her blue trench coat, hair bound up and pinned in place against what breeze there might be. She lifts a hand in greeting as Sharpe stands and huffs a soft laugh at the memory of their mild argument about standing and sitting when they'd spoke last.]

Richard. You look well.

[The mending and minding to his jacket is taken in with little more than a quirked brow. Whoever he held in his company he wishes to impress, it seems. Or he was simply tired of it being a mess. One is as likely as the other.]

[greenjacketed]

I look serviceable -- [ he corrects her with the cheeky ease that comes with a man being freed from the terror of having to write his every thought. ] No more, no less.

[ though it looks likely that he's shaved and showered of late, as well. not that he was usually unwashed, but there was a big difference between a grand scrubbing and washing oneself from a basin of lukewarm water. ]

And you're looking...[ be courteous, sharpe. ] Blue. Fittingly, I suppose.

[fleurdesel]

I'll not ask after the service that warrants a pheasant and a mended jacket.

[And a shave. Not that he let himself becomes scruffy by any means but a cleanshaven jaw does tend to be indicative of a particular set of concerns.

She blinks a bit at the comment and looks down, then back up with a shrug.]

After the ocean rather than my country, I assure you.

[greenjacketed]

Just a dinner, ma'am. [ oh, he is in a rare decent mood. he ma'ams her with every intention of needling her. it may be the friendliest and least wary he's ever been with the surgeon. ] Nothing more, but hopefully nothing less.

[ he doesn't have his rifle, today. but his sword still swings at his hip and there's doubtless a pistol snuck somewhere on his person. sharpe's eyes rove 'round the plaza until he finds the grocery shop in his sights. ]

[fleurdesel]

Ma'am now, is it? That's a fair step up from lass.

[Her smile isn't quite coy and isn't quite wry. It's settled comfortably in between one and the other without ever committing to any particular emotion.]

In France dinner would be quite a bit- but you are, after all, a disciplined Englishman.

[Cheeky. It's settled on cheeky while the rest of her is, as ever, intensely aware of how open the plaza remains and how little cover there could be. She puts the thought as far from her mind as she might, which isn't terribly, and alters her course to make her way to the grocer's.]

[greenjacketed]

[ he falls in step. ]

It's all well chaperoned, I assure you. [ sorta. not really. as if you could chaperone one young woman with an even younger woman. likely, the whole thing would be an utter disaster. ]

[fleurdesel]

Then there is nothing at all to worry about save the meal itself.

[Which is quite a bit to worry over but she's not going to let that show in the slightest. Pheasant can't be that different from Chicken aside from size, Helios had explained what needed to be changed. She'll not screw this, whatever it is, up for him.]

[greenjacketed]

[ what worries sharpe most is he wonders about the fare miss long must be used to. a proper household with proper cooks. he frowns, but doesn't forget to open the door for adele. ]

Plates included. I can't say I've ever entertained before this, miss.

[fleurdesel]

How fortunate that I have entertained far too much. <

[Grander things than a quiet dinner, yes, and needlessly so from her point of view. Something of this size is far more to her liking when it comes to arrangements. She dips her head in thanks on her way through the door, paring down what she normally asked when making arrangements to the basics.]

How many will be dining with you?

[greenjacketed]

Two, beyond me. [ or he hopes so. so long as he hasn't insulted katniss to the point of refusing the invitation. ] The numbers won't be balanced. But at this point, I find I don't care.

[fleurdesel]

Balance is best when you mean to make a grand gesture or have group larger than seven. For this I think three is suitable enough.

[One lemon went into her bag and she steps to the side to inspect the available potatoes.]

Will you be serving wine?

[greenjacketed]

[ he sighs -- somewhat chagrined. ] I hadn't thought of it.

[ katniss doesn't care for it the stuff. he'd prefer a bottle of brandy. and faith... ]

Summat light, maybe. Miss Long might not be accustomed to anything too strong.

[fleurdesel]

Not every dinner needs it, I simply thought it best to ask.

[She adds a few of the larger potatoes to her bag, rolling the options around in her head.]

With a roast chicken I would recommend a chardonnay, but Pheasant is gamier and meatier but you do not want anything too heavy...a light Pinot Noir would likely work best. Not too strong, fairly smooth and if you find the right bottle? Mild.

[greenjacketed]

At least if it's there, she can always turn it down. Eh?

[ he thinks over the name. pinot noir. and all the while, he's watching her hand things off to her bag. ] I'd never realized you had, by the way. Done a fair amount of entertaining.

[ somehow, he can't imagine the woman enjoying it. but he isn't sure how to pin down that hunch. ]

[fleurdesel]

Precisely. You've fulfilled your obligation as a host by offering her the option.

[Herbs she'd already brought over from the stores in her kitchen, as well as a container of salt for the bird. He would likely frown on butter so she looks instead for a bottle of oil for the roasting pan and potatoes.]

I come from a family of well known and largely useless individuals. They've enough status to be haughty about it but not so much to be responsible for anything. Of all my siblings I'm the one with the least social grace, as you well know. To keep me from insulting anyone they put me in charge of arranging most of our family gatherings, dinners, galas, whatever they required.

[greenjacketed]

...Clever them. [ the subject is -- at heart -- serious enough. but sharpe makes the crack because to engage the subject on a deeper emotional level is a draining prospect. ] 'S like how I have the 'talion ensigns mind the wagons or put their piquets where they'll get into the least mischief.

[ yet those boys -- sadly -- always seem to end up dead regardless of his efforts. ]

[fleurdesel]

They had their moments. [She huffs a soft laugh and finds a modest bottle of olive oil and that, too, goes into the bag.] I'm certain they find their own mischief given enough time.

[greenjacketed]

You know -- [ he plucked up a thick spanish onion and tosses it from one palm to the other ] -- my battalion used to do to me what your family did to you.

[ a touch more serious, but hardly upset. ] Stick the ranker with the quartermaster's job, you see. So he can't get his muck on their gold and lace. Of course, I didn't get any entertaining skills from it. More's the pity.

[fleurdesel]

[All that's left is apples for the tart and wine, at least from her list. She looks over at the idle gesture, eyes flicking up to his at the flash of unexpected insight.]

You, at least, were still doing something that was of use, were you not? Though if you'd learned what you needed you'd have been spared the indignity of being taught by a Frog.