11th June: Returning with gifts

"You.. you did say yet, sir." Pye answered ,having his hands drop at his sides. "And..." He could say that he knew he displeased the captain, and he just did not want to displease him again.

Vickery raised an eyebrow. "Are you teasing me?" he asked, laying the pen down. He smiled, the grin making him look rather boyish. "I meant, I have not bitten a Rifleman yet, and I have no intention of doing so any time soon."

"No, sir." Pye answered hastly. "Only if..." He then began shyly. "You said so, sir..." He then stared at the spot up ahead of him, that was just conveniently close to Vickery. "...i mean, I wouldn't sir.. sorry,sir." He saw that smile though and looked bemused.

"...is it... a'right if I did, sir?"

"Yes," Vickery replied, quashing the feeling that he might live to regret saying that. "I am not your previous Company officer, nor your previous Sergeant. And I'm pleased that you are beginning to realise that."

"Yes, sir." Pye smiled. "Would you like to join us sir, or... need anything?" He inquired glancing at the papers that the man had in possession. All the squiggles really meant very little to him, but that could as well have been because he could not read a word of what they said.

He could ask the captain if he had permission to visit his friends outside the ranks of the 60th, but debated mentally whether it was too early and whether he ought just concentrate on showing that he could be relied on perfectly well. Maybe the latter was best. Prove oneself, and then get a reward. He only needed to figure out how to tell his friends why he's not coming around for a while.

"I don't think you need an officer hovering over you for every moment of the day, Pye," Vickery said, smiling. "And no, thank you, I do not need anything else right now." He paused for a moment, and then added, "Would you come with me when I check the picquets in a while?"

Pye blinked. "Me, Sir? Yes sir." He said hastly. Not that he had a choice, but he looked like he genuinely wanted to. going to see the picquets meant that he would be straying into a greater range than he was allowed to go now. Maybe even.. well, whatever the captain would want, he was fine with it.

"If you want me to, I'll come sir." Gladly was not added, but it was obvious on his face. He smiled.

"Yes, you, sir," Vickery replied with a smile of his own. Pye looked quite eager to be going already, very like a dog told it was going walkies. Oh dear... he really had to stop comparing Pye to a young dog before he said something he would regret.

"How soon sir?" He needed to know, if he had time to drink his tea, if he was best just to sit and remain by the fire, or if he could stretch his legs at all.

He looked at Vickery and probably did little to make that image the man had had of him, be less... right.

Vickery pulled his watch out of his pocket and opened it. "In about half an hour or so, I think - I need time to drink my tea first."

He closed the lid of his watch and put it back in his pocket, wishing that Pye need not look quite so much like a puppy trying to wag its tail off.

"Sir, may I be excused then. I'll be by the fire, where you've left us earlier, with Cotton, and maybe there'll be..." He shut up briefly. "I'll be there sir." But if Vickery wanted him to stay, he would do that to.

"Of course you may be excused," Vickery replied. "I will come and find you when I'm ready to go. And thank you for the tea."

"I just brought it sir. Cotton made it." Pye said with a smile and saluted smartly. He walked a few steps disappeared out from the tent and then he was running back towards their fire, grinning broadly and feeling rather happy.

Vickery had gathered that, but he only nodded. "That does not mean I cannot thank you for bringing it." He smiled as Pye saluted and backed out of the tent. He really was going to have to educate the lad in when a courtesy was required and when it was not... but then, Cotton would probably do that before he could.

"Tea delivered." Pye said excitedly, in greeting to Cotton. He did not want to take credit where it was not due. Delivery to him had been just.. well it was nice to have the captain thank him though. He glanced at the chick, who stirred from her sleep and blinked at him still rather sleepily. She decided that it was not worth getting up for, as she went and closed her eyes again. She was not yet hungry so there was no point in going about.

"Anything else you need me to do, Gabe?" He was not yet seated. He looked around wondering where Freddie was. That lad made him have a better opinion of their German speaking fellows. He could say, he trusted them more now, and he knew a few words so understanding them may have played a role in the trust as well.

Freddie had collected all plates and mugs to wash them. First he had of course cleaned the Captain's silver, while the water was still crystal clear. But then he had quickly, but nontheless quite thorougly, washed his friends' things as well.

Now he returned, mugs hooked over fingers that clutched bowls, pressing the large silver serving plate against his chest, the pockets of his jacket filled with cuttlery. Between his teeth he had a piece of cloth destined to be used as a polishing cloth. When he reached the fire again, he performed some complicated manouver that allowed him to fall down in a controlled way and end up crosslegged on the ground without loosing his load.

Then he let the cloth drop down and carefully opened his arms until the things there slowly tumbled down on it. He grinned at the other two men.

"All sauber! But I do not know welche bowl is your bowl ... jeweils."

Cotton grinned. "That one's mine," he said, taking his battered wooden bowl, and mismatched cutlery. "Jewels?" he added, confused. What did jewels have to do with anything?

"Tea?" he added, leaning forward to hook the kettle off the fire.

"I don't think he meant Jewels, Gabe." He waved enthusiastically to his friend. "But you are going to pick which bowl is yours.. because I do believe he's mixed them all up." He chuckled softly.

"Already got mine, Zack," Cotton said, indicating his bowl. "And you ought to know your own bowl and stuff b'now, oughtn't you?"

He had to put the kettle down; the handle was a little too warm for him to keep holding it without something wrapped around it. He took his forage hat off to use as a makeshift pot-grabber. "D'you want any tea, or not?" he asked, looking between the two lads.

Freddie grinned, held out his own mug and said, pronouncing it very carefully:

"I would like an... some (?) tea, please, Herr Cotton. Thank you."

He tried to immitated Captain Torrington's upper class diction, suceeding quite well, even though the 'Herr' sounded rather funny that way.

He let himself fall cross-legged to the ground and tried to explain:
"I meaned 'jeweils'. That is ... oh, I can't say it right. You both have your own mugs, so you have one mug jeweils ... pro persone. What is ... or are jewels? Something to eat? Can I taste?"

His eyes shone hopefully. He was always eager to learn new dishes.

"Each?" Cotton guessed, and shook his head. "No - jewels... um. Like a lady's necklace or earrings." He mimed a lady fastening a necklace and earrings on, before pouring water into Rottländer's mug, and held it out. "There, Herr Rottländer," he said, holding the mug out. "You'll have to add your own leaves, though, sorry."

"Danke, Herr Cotton!"

Freddie grinned gratefully, took the mug and pulled some leaves out of his pouch. They weren't real tea-leaves. The bit of real tea he possessed was carefully kept for special occasions, but rather a mixture of dried leaves he had picked up.

It smelled quite interesting, after adding it to the water it turned bluish at first, and he supposed he should add less brambles the next time. But it was hot and tasted not too bad, and this way he could safe up his precious tea leaves until they were really called for.

"Jewels ...", he said, rolling the word around in his mouth. "I like it! Ich hätte gerne jewels. When we find ... jewels after a fight, we can ...", he made agesture of taking something and placing it in his pocket. "Right? When it gehört dem enemy and he is dead?"

"Bitte, Herr Rottländer," Cotton replied, looking with interest at the leaves the lad added to the water in his cup. He was fairly sure some of them were blackberry leaves. Well, fair enough, he supposed. It was one way to eke out your rations.

He grinned at Rottländer's suggestion. "Yes, but only when he'm dead - ain't right to take anythin' off prisoners, after all. An' I don't s'pose any of 'em do have jewels on 'em, either."

Freddie frowned, then declared firmly:

"We need kill a general! He has jewels."

He sat down again, tugging his knees under his chin and sipped his tea, then rested his cheek against the warm mug. His nervous energy finally seemed to have subsided a bit and for once the young german seemed content not to do anything. Only his thumbs lazily stroked over the rim of his mug.

Cotton nodded. "Generals are very rich - they have a lot of money." He mimed rubbing a coin between finger and thumb, in case Rottländer didn't understand what he meant. He grinned at the lad, who had finally settled down and stopped bouncing around.

"It's nice, this," he added, laying down on his back and cushioning his head on his arm. "I like the sky. ain't anythin' like enough sky when you'm in a town, though."