The Day After

"I've less years than you, 'n sure more agile!" He answered with a grin and a bit of a tease, taking further steps back. He spotted the frame of the door through which he wanted to flee, and his hand shifted behind him to adjust the hold on his brass plate. Wouldn't do to drop it in the dash.

"'s no challenge! Ha, no challenge at all!" His eyes shone with amusement.

Billy coughed self-consciously. He knew as well as any man aboard that the hold was the quietest and most private place aboard the ship, more private than even the captain's cabin with its marine sentries and captain's steward and skylight and thin bulkheads. Whatever went on between men in the hold was better not known, but Billy had heard a man's voice and a boy there squealing. At least if they were aware of his presence they might be more discreet. He coughed again for good measure and continued humming noisily to himself while he searched for the box he had been sent to find.

"Give it back, you young limb!"

There was someone else down here; he'd heard them coughing, but they weren't doing anything wrong, and he needed his crossbelt plate back.

"No! 's mine now. Ye got ye'own!" He paused distracted by the cough. He turned around to see where it was coming from and how far it was from them, or rather the owner of that cough. He heard the hum and then just realised that Thompson was no further away from wanting to get his plate than before.

He turned around, already taking steps back and mightily hoping he hadn't been too late to turn back.

What the hell was going on down here anyway? Why couldn't they take their business elsewhere, or stop altogether? Billy knew better than to get involved - that could get a man deep in trouble, and he would rather not know if it was all the same. But couldn't they let a man do his work in peace?

"Is that you, Ned?" he asked, knowing very well that it was not. "Give us a hand, eh?"

He darted forward to grab the boy. "C'mon, lad, a joke's a joke but I need to get me kit squared away."

He yelped in surprise as army got hold of him and began to squirm fervently. "Le'go!" He uttered then turning more quietly, for he'd heard the question. "Le'go." And then louder: "..Ain't no Ned n' here! " And he clasped his hands over the brass plate and held it firmly, stiffling chuckles for fear the arrival could hear more of them and come to inspect. "Yer name inn't Ned is it?" He asked in whisper, breathing heavily from the struggle, a grin on his face.

"No, it ain't. Now hand it over or I'll turn you upside down and shake you!" He was grinning and wondered if he could actually carry that threat out. Be interesting to try it... "Me name's George, anyways."

"George." The boy repeated marking the name, but somewhat surprised that he was given the knowledge of it. "Ah.. you won't shake me, t' scrawny you!" He replied with a stiffled laugh, trying to speak quieter now that he knew there was another in close proximity.

"Ye couldn' even lift me!" He challenged with a grin, clutching the brass plate so much tighter that it might well leave an imprint on his skin for a short while.

"Want to bet? Might be thin, but I know how to use me strength. An' you ain't so very big y'rself, you know. Should box y'r ears, I should, givin' me all this trouble."

"What ye willin' ter bet?" He grinned and squirmed some, finding himself firmly planted in the other man's hold. He could use every youngling's trick of an eel squirm, but that would have been a great deal easier to do, if his hands had not been presently occupied with a brass plate and could loose their hold on it or worse.

" Box me ears? PHA... you wouldn't do it! Ye've too kin' a heart fer that!"

"I don't bet. But are you willin' to bet I won't box your ears?" He probably wouldn't do it now, but sometime in the future, unless de Guarde shaped up fast, chances were he would.

And the lad had shoved the item in question under his shirt, hadn't he? Thomson was not going to looking for it in there, especially with someone else down here. Who knew what conclusion he'd jump to if he came round the corner and found Thompson half-stripping the lad to try to get his property back?

" Yep. I'm willin' cos' I know ye ain't!" He grinned, sensing Thompson's hesitance and finding himself rather triumphant in the plight for the brass plate even if he might consider returning it later. Right now, he didn't want the marine to think he would.

" Admit defeat do you?.. 's mine now!"

"No, it ain't." He had certain... skills... that he'd learnt as a kid, and although he hadn't used them in years, being a fine upstanding member of His Majesty's Royal Marines, that didn't mean he'd forgotten how to use them.

All he needed was for the lad to let go of the thing, and it was as good as in his hand again.

"Aye it is! 's t' one who has it, that it belongs ter!" He clutched onto the plate even tighter as if afraid that Thompson would find a way or manner to dare and snatch it from him any how.

"Can't get it , any how can ye?" He grinned , crisscrossing his hands over the plate. " nex' I be comin' fer yer stock!" As if he were collecting trophy's.

(ooc - need to go for a short while, see you later! (Oh and if need be, move the hussar as you please!))

Thompson grinned... and moved one finger of his free hand against the boy's ribs.

"You want to join the Marines, lad, you need to speak t'the Captain first," he said, grinning. "Ain't gettin' my kit to p'rade in, though."

He laughed and squirmed, trying to move away from the finger whose faintest touch seemed to tickle him terribly. "I'd have ter listen ter your corporal. Good reasn ter turn any 'way!" He pulled and tugged at the arm that held him even going so far as to place dead weight against it, lifting his feet so that all weight was on it.

"But don' mean I won't be havin' t' kit. Your kit, 'fcourse!"

Thompson braced himself firmly as the lad pulled at his arm.

"You give it me back, an' I'll stop doin' this, then," he said, tickling a little more.

" Hey! " He squirmed and laughed. "'s no fair! Stop it!" He cried before stiffling his voice well into a whisper of protests. "m's cheating!"

"Ain't cheatin'. Now, give it me back. Please."

"Hmpf." He looked at the hand that had tickled him: "Wot' do I get in return, if I give it t' ye?" He asked angelically. "N' ye ought ter let me go first too."

"I ain't so silly as to let you go afore you've give my crossbelt plate back, lad. An' if you don't give it me back, I'll just... keep doin' this till you do." He tickled the boy again, just with one finger.

"Ah, that's cruel of you!" He laughed and squirmed: " Please. Halt!" His eyes held tears from laughter, and his belly was starting to hurt, thanks to it. " I'll bite you! I assure you I will!" He threatened, his lips curved up in a smile.

He paused, eyebrows raised. "Bite? That's no way for a nice well-brought up lad to behave. Just give me back me kit, and we'll call it evens, eh?"

"Hmpf. " He looks up at Thompson: " If ye were a Frog I don't think 't would matter how I'm brought up. If it had yer loosin' t' fight i'd well do it t' dirty way." He slowly moved his hands appart though and began to slide the plate out of his hiding place. " I'll give it, if yer say a very nice please. N' don't hold this 'gainst me." He smiled widely, yet in part even somewhat afraid that Thompson would not trust him with another part of his kit again, since he has near taken the one.