TV Dinners

There was some excitement going on in the tavern's galley. Loud voices and the unmistakable bark of a musket shot, followed by more loud voices. For once, however, Higgins did not run to see what might have occasioned firing. He did not leap up from the settee he was sitting on. In fact, he did not even look away from the screeching box that featured doll-sized people on a stage.

He had seen plays before but none of anything like this. What were they saying? The language was not one he'd ever heard before. It was fascinating all the same. So he carried on watching with rapt interest, not troubling himself to look up when his ears registered the sound of feet scuffing over carpet.

" 'Ow bist?" He asked absently, not knowing just who it was in the doorway.

Davy had no idea what sort of place this was; he'd wandered into the tavern to see if he could scrounge something or other, and he'd barely been able to tell up from down ever since. It was the strangest tavern he'd ever been in, that was for sure. He had made his way to one corner of the room, from which there was a great deal of noise; a man flopped down on a settee spoke up without looking at him.

Obviously they didn't even speak English here. "Hoo ye gannin', marra?" he said incuriously to the man - he was more interested in the little box past him. It had pictures in it. Pictures of people, and they were moving. And talking, though he didn't understand what they were saying either. It wasn't a window, because - he walked all the way around it to be sure that it wasn't some trick of his eyes, and stopped around the front again, between the TV and Higgins - it was just a box.

He prodded at the screen and the pictures shimmered around the contact, like a ripple. It was a little warm to the touch. The ring faded very slowly as he took his fingers away. That was mighty strange.

What the hell sort of response was that? Higgins finally looked up, in no small part because the new arrival walked straight into his line of vision.

"Skooze I," he snapped at the boy, who was in the process of poking at the box's screen. "Dooee mind?"

"Whisht, haad yer gob," Davy said, waving a hand at the man while he investigated the screen further. The people inside didn't react to anything he said or did; he tried to poke at them just to see if they'd move, but they went on doing what they were doing. "This kist is reet uncanny," he commented.

Higgins' eyes went round in disbelief at the boy's cheek. "Damn I," he burst out, starting to get to his feet. "Eye’ll giddit tuwee eye awl."

Whoever this boy was, he had no notion of manners!

"Wha' ye jaain' aboot?" Davy said, as he jabbed a little glowing thing at the base of the window and abruptly the box went dark and silent. "Ye divvent even spyek En'lish." He glanced over his shoulder, and saw the fellow was getting to his feet. What was his problem? Davy was just looking at the picture box. Though it seemed he'd broken it. He prodded at it again.

Oh but this bugger was going to get a hiding. Higgins curled his lip in disgust. "Baint'ee a bloody noggerhead. Naught unner stannin' I, eh? Yer, lettit be, er's arredy brik."

Davy had given up listening to the man at all. He did, however, notice that the man had by this time stood up and was bearing down in his direction.

"Haad yer gob," he said again, with an air of superiority. Interesting. There was a sort of cord attached to the box that ran between it and the wall, stretched at just about the right height to catch the foot of someone who was making an incautious dash. It wasn't that noticeable. Davy stepped behind that, as if he were going to go around the box again to look at the back end.

"Gurt big eller," Higgins snarled, crossing the floor to catch hold of the scamp's collar. No manners. Interrupting a lad's box-watching and to show no proper sense of place. No manners at all! "Thees gettin' a good drubbin', bloody vool."

With that, he applied his palms soundly to the boy's ears.

A door slammed shut somewhere outside the room and a moments later another Marine came into the room where the two of them were. "Ah, it's damned kivvery out there. There a fire anywheres roun' hereabouts?"

Davy skipped backward quick as a wink, but not quite quick enough to evade the hand that snatched for his collar. A second later, he'd been boxed on the ears, hard enough to make them ring. But the man had let go of his collar to do it.

Davy attacked, bringing up his knee for Higgins' groin at the same time that he lunged upwards, his blonde poll aimed straight for the man's chin. "Ye sod!"

The knee found its mark and Higgins made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. He managed to push himself back from the vile boy enough to avoid being clipped solidly in the chin, but the worst damage was done.

"Bleedin'... kill'ee, eye awl."

Not at that precise moment, though. It was hard to even think straight when one was crumpled half-up against a settee, with both hands cupped protectively around vital parts.

"What all be goin' on in here, then? I ain't never seed the like in all me borned days, I ain't." Thompson had stopped in the doorway and was watching with an open mouth as Davy kicked Higgins right where it hurt.

Davy didn't see any point in letting an advantage go to waste, even if there was a new fellow in the room with them now. He sprang for Higgins, who'd fallen back against the settee, and snapped his foot out for the man's gut, putting his full body behind the attack. He didn't have much weight, but all of the momentum he could get behind a well-placed kick to that sweet spot could do a number on a man that was already having trouble thinking about anything but his family jewels.

"Nowt!" he answered Thompson just as he did that.

"Don't look like nowt to me, it don't," Thompson said, springing forward in an effort to haul Davy away from Higgins before the blow connected. "There ain't no call for that kind o' treatment. I oughta measure you fer a new jacket, so I ought. Give you a proper leatherin'."

If ever he was able to get up again, Higgins swore he would pickle this boy's guts and make him eat them. He offered no reply to Thompson's question, the power of speech having been temporarily robbed away from him, and settled for biting firmly down on his tongue to keep from making any sound at all.

He'd got the man a good one! Davy felt a surge of triumph as his foot connected solidly with the stupid lout's belly, but that was arrested shortly afterward as the other man siezed hold of him and jerked him away. "He gan an' hi' us forst!" he protested, and then swore angrily. "Hell an' f**k! Give ower, ye brute!"

"Two wrongs don't make a right," Thompson pointed out. "An' swearing like that, at your age. Oughta wash your mouth out for you, I ought. Now, you ain't goin' to hit nobody if I put you down, are you?"

"Ye soond leik an aad wife!" Davy snapped back. But he was forced to let the matter drop, really. He could have kicked Thompson's shins good, but he didn't think it would help much the way the man was holding him.

Sullenly, he acquiesced. "Ah'll no' hi' him agyen."

"Mebbe I do, don't change the truth of it," Thompson said mildly. He released the boy. "Ain't no reason to go hittin' anyone, 'specially not like that." He looked over to Higgins. "You all right there, mate?"

Some of his wind was back. Enough to permit him to offer a choked, "Ah, noht too baahd," in reply to Thompson's question.

Davy folded his arms and looked down at Higgins, feeling triumphant despite having had to give in to Thompson - Higgins was bigger and stronger than he was, but Davy had laid him out flat just as quick as anything. Wait'll he told Starling about this.

"Wha's the box wi' the window?" he interjected, not interested in whether Higgins was alright or not.

"Dunno. It shows movin' pictures, is all we know 'bout it," Thompson replied shortly. "Try breathin' slow, Sy. Don't want you to go hurtin' yourself any worse. Though someone oughta teach that kid some manners."

"Wha's th' gan-on' in heor?" A new voice demanded, preempting any reply Higgins might have choked out.

Davy's ears pricked up at once as he caught the familiar accents of home. "Haway man!" he burst out cheerfully in greeting. "I' isnae nowt much, jus' a box wi' pictures." Or maybe he was talking about Higgins. He shrugged - it was obvious what had happened there; Davy had kicked his rear! He lifted his chin proudly.