Lisbon: Officer's Mess

"Richard," Padstowe said, lowering his voice even more, his eyes flickering to the officer of the 60th to check he was not attending. "Does it not occur to you that I did not need to give his name? Had it been the same lad as beat your man this morning, as you believe, then it does not take a genius to put two and two together. The story about what happened must have spread through the army like wildfire by now - all the provosts would have to do would be to find the lad who beat a Chosen Man of the 95th and they would have their victim."

Sharpe blinked, opened his mouth to reply and reached for his wineglass.

"It has been rather a long day today, I'm not thinking as clearly as I should, apparently."

He looked down at his plate. It was still half-full, but he'd had more than his fair share from the breadbasket and didn't feel like trying to stomach the 'mucked-about foreign nonsense' as his Riflemen would no doubt call the food on the plate.

"I should really get to bed. Early mornings and late nights don't agree with me. Or my temper, as the Chosen Men could probably tell you."

"Oh."

Padstowe looked down at his almost untouched plate with a little disappointment, wondering if anything he had said had offended Sharpe. But then, on reflection, it was getting quite late.

"Yes, I suppose so. And I suppose the Chosen Men would rather face your usual sweet-tempered self than one that has been deprived of sleep."

He gave Sharpe a half-smile, unable to resist the chance to tease.

"I don't think they'd ever describe me as 'sweet-tempered'," Sharpe replied, before realising Padstowe was teasing him. "Though that's maybe because I never get the chance to have a lie-in."

Padstowe's smile broadened a little.

"Somehow I don't think any of us will be getting a lie-in for quite some time. I think I might turn in soon too." He gave an infinitesimal nod. "Good night, Richard."

"Night." Sharpe pushed his chair back to stand, then paused. "Will I see you in the morning? Or will you be busy?"

Padstowe smiled again, but it was a wan smile.

"I honestly don't know, Richard. I honestly don't know."

"Well, I'll look out for you anyway. Goodnight." He stood up and made his way out of the Mess, reclaiming his rifle on the way.

What he needed was a cup of tea and a good night's sleep.