Re: 3rd August, Room and Board

[Keiju]

There was that word again. Damn. This was as much Kerjean's fault as Bright's own. It was too late now but Bright wished he had thought to put his coat back on. If these two grasshoppers saw his back, it would be over. If it was not over already.

His hands curled slowly into fists, but otherwise he kept as still as he could.

[sans nom]

English. Kaufmann's eyes automatically strayed to the man on the floor, but he controlled himself and shook his head. "We'll talk downstairs," he replied and moved for the bed, checking himself as he automatically reached out with his good arm. He kept forgetting that his good arm was nearly as useless as the bad one. "Damn. Put this bed back to rights."

[Paol Kerjean]

Paol had no idea what was passing between them, but when the older of the two made a sudden move towards the bed, Paol's arm shot out, thrusting him back towards the door. Then something cold and sharp pressed itself against his throat and he froze, staring down the bayonet of the other rifleman.

*

"The hell with the bed," Mittelstaedt retorted, glaring at the belligerent Frenchman. "You want me to skewer this one?"

[sans nom]

"No!" Kaufmann exclaimed in surprise, staring at the big Frenchman.  "What the hell was that for?  Come on, Mittelstaedt.  Downstairs."



(Going here)

[Keiju]

Whatever his feelings toward the two Frenchmen were, Bright's instincts were still those of a soldier, and he recognised imminent danger when it presented itself. The British had trained him all too well. It helped that, as a redcoat, he had always felt a disdain for the Riflemen.

"Here, leave off, you grasshopping monkeys." He got to his feet as quickly as he could. "You Riflemen always were pushy, blockheaded sods. Couldn't ever face up to a lad from the Line, without sneakin' up on him. Like now."

What could he do, though? With only one good arm and no weapon to hand. It wasn't as if the Riflemen could understand him anyway. Unless they knew French - which would mean a whole new mess of trouble.

[outis]

Mittelstaedt dropped the tip of his bayonet from the tall prisoner's throat and trained it on the other Frenchman. Whatever his actual words, his tone was clear enough. "Oh, aye. You just wait. The pair of you," he spat, backing out of the room after Kaufmann. Belatedly he thought to pull the door shut, but the prisoners beat him to it.

******

The door banged shut and Paol set his back against it, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in his left shoulder. "F***."

[sans nom]

"You shoulda let him have it, Paol," Charcot said.

[Paol Kerjean]

This was too much for Paol. "How the hell would that have helped anything?" he burst out angrily.

[sans nom]

"I mean you should have let them take Braillte away and shoot him or whatever they do to deserters. He ain't got any loyalty to us, or to anyone, so why should we protect him?"

[Keiju]

"Sod you too, Tiresias," grumbled Bright. Even though it was true he had no real feeling of loyalty toward either of them. Not as individuals, anyway. He picked himself up off the floor and, ignoring the other two, set himself about the task of righting the bed and putting it back into order. This was no easy task with only one functional arm, however.

[sans nom]

"Tiresias yourself. You'd do the same to us in a heartbeat, and probably will before long."

[Keiju]

At this, Bright rolled his eyes. "I did my bit tryin' to protect your lads, and look what I got for it." He gestured at the wound under his arm, which was concealed by his waistcoat. "I'm no Sinon, am I, but neither are you."

[sans nom]

"Our lads?" Charcot repeated, ignoring the Sinon part. "They're supposed to be your lads too!"

[Keiju]

"Your mates, then," he clarified. "Sure I've had no mates here since... for a long bleedin' time. Anyway, getting nearly killed tryin' to defend somebody is too steep a price. Friend or not!"

This last remark was punctuated with a scraping clatter as he shoved the now-righted bed back against the wall, where it had previously stood.

[Paol Kerjean]

"Enough," Paol cut in, "Christ! The pair of you -- Like we ain't got enough problems without you two goin' at it! And I don't give a flaming damn who he's loyal to; he's Second Company and they ain't taking him, and that's an end of it."

[sans nom]

Charcot snorted, but he did not have anything else to say on the matter. Then, belatedly thinking of the scuffle he had heard, including the unsheathing of a sword, he asked "Did those grasshoppers hurt you, Paol?"

[Keiju]

Bright said nothing further, but the bed was back in order now. He picked up his coat and refolded it, then slung himself - carefully - back onto the thin mattress. What a pair of buffoons he'd found himself lumped in with.

[Paol Kerjean]

"Huh? Oh. No, they didn't hurt me," he answered, his voice flat with exhaustion. He eased himself back to the ground, his good shoulder still propped against the door, and let his head drop into his hand.

[sans nom]

Paol sounded exhausted, as naturally they all were. "You got a bed?" Charcot asked. It sounded like Paol was on the floor. "You can use my bed, though there's no blanket." Or he could just knock Bright off of his.

[Paol Kerjean]

"Thanks, mate," Paol replied without looking up. "I'll sleep better right here, though."

[Keiju]

What a gallant. "Virgil'd be dead proud of you, Kerjean, no mistake."

[sans nom]

"And who's Virgil supposed to be?" Charcot asked, disdain souring his tone.

[Keiju]

"Old foreign bloke. Nobody either of you'd know."

[Paol Kerjean]

It hardly mattered who Virgil was; it had been clear enough what Bright had meant. But Paol was past caring. "Forget it, Charcot. It's fine."

[sans nom]

There was another light tap on the door, and the girl's voice called to them.

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