28th June, morning; Invitation to Trouble (cont.)

Jarreau rubbed at his eyes, transferring dark smudges of ink from his hand to his face, and stared balefully at the report in front of him. He would have liked little so well as to fling the wretched thing into the fire. But the captain -- damn the man -- wanted a written report of that night's debacle, so a report he would get. Or as near as Jarreau could manage. He was no scholar, and while he could read tolerably well, albeit slowly, writing was still a struggle.

He looked over the details once more, then scrawled his name at the bottom, set the document safely aside and collapsed back onto the ground beside his fire where, in a weak moment of wishful thinking, he had spread his bedroll. Sleep was impossible; between the night's events and writing the report, he was wound far too tight for that. Nonetheless, he closed his eyes, trying to consciously slow the restless spinning in his head.

Saint-Hilaire inquired on the whereabouts of Jarreau and where he could speak to him. It took him a short while, but at final last he had been pointed in the right direction and from where the man had been, he was going towards his last resting place. He was tired but determined to speak with him, see whether he was willing to apologise, and if not, to speak of the terms of the duel.

He had spotted the man lying beside the fire. Approaching him from one side, he cleared his throat loud enough, then: "...Sous-lieutenant Saint-Hilaire...would like to inquire whether he finds M. Jarreau before him."

Jarreau sat up sharply, startled, for he head not heard the man approach, his expression of annoyance hardening to one of suspicion as he recognized the fellow's facings. He could guess easily enough what this was about.

"I'm Lt Jarreau, if that's what you're asking. What do you want?"

"..I would be glad to hear that you have considered your earlier misunderstanding.. with Lieutenant Bastien, and perhaps I am to hear good news, of it?" Saint-Hilaire said calmly and politely.

He stood and waited, indeed hoping that Jarreau would be sensible to say that he was willing to apologize and end this nonsense before somebody got hurt.

Jarreau stared at the younger man. That he was asking a question was clear enough, but what it was eluded Jarreau.

"What?"

"....May Lieutenant Bastien expect an apology." Saint-Hilaire was more blunt now, feeling quite unsurprised that he had to elaborate on such a matter to someone.... to this lieutenant anyway. Still he sounded polite and composed and merely inquiring.

A short, incredulous laugh, hardly more than an exhalation escaped him. "Is that what he sent you here for? Christ--" Were they children for this lad to play nursemaid to, that a half mumbled, insincere apology should still serve as penance for a blow or unkind word?

"No," he replied, an edge of finality in his voice, "He may not."

"He has not sent me here to reason with you.. though.." He bit his tongue not to say something he would not have regretted, but which would be quite unbecoming of the current situation. "..He has sent me to ask the name of your second and to tell you the type of weapons that shall be used to settle your slant.."

He arched a brow. "As I am his second."

For the second time in as many minutes, Jarreau was completely at a loss.

"Second what?"

"...His second. ...have you never fought a duel?" Saint-Hilaire was loosing patience. Was this man really so dense? Stupid, he was certainly daft as an empty bucket, an airhead!

"You are either to apologise, and mean it, or you are to fight the duel and find your second..." He spoke slowly, as if speaking to one, who was completely unable to comprehend anything above baby talk.

At the word duel, Jarreau's face seemed to still, then sharpen. He got to his feet and stood facing the sous-lieutenant, his right arm tensing as though to strike, but remaining at his side, though he would dearly have liked to box the boy's ears for tone he was taking.

"Where," he spoke slowly, his voice flat and controlled, "the flaming hell does dueling come into it?"

"Sir.." Saint-Hilaire began. "...Insult.. in combination with the lack of will to apologise properly... with the addition of gentlemen and their honour, usually leads into a situation where things are to be settled in a manner of civlised fighting." He paused as if to decide this was too much for the man to understand. "... In short.. sir. You have offended him, and for this you are to duel him." He smiled politely. "Have I made myself understandable enough?"

A muscle twitched along Jarreau's jaw. "Perfectly."

"Then , may I inquire on the name of your second." Though clearly, this man did not have one! "And... may I inform you on the mode of the duel... that is.. on the weapons used?" He studied Jareau.

"I shall take my leave then, unless you will have any additional questions you need answering.."

"What are the weapons, then?" he asked, jumping deliberately to that part of the question, for he had no second and they both knew it.

"Swords." Saint-Hilaire was curt and to the point. "When you have your second.." He smiled. "Send him to speak with me on the remaining terms of ...the duel." He arched a brow.

"Are there any questions..., monseur?"

[ooc] I can edit if it doesn't work![/ooc]


Jarreau's hand shot out, cuffing Saint-Hilaire sharply across the face. It was a reaction, thoughtless and over in an eye blink, and it was a mistake, though by the time he realized that, it was over, and any doubt or shame was carefully shut behind a mask of contempt as he bit out his answer. "No questions. Sous-lieutenant."

Saint-Hilaire stumbled backwards, more from shock than from the actual contact. He stared at Jarreau for a moment, then the stunned expression was replaced by a glare. "...lieutenant Jarreau.. consider yourself challenged by me as well.. in more understandable terms that you shall possibly, hopefully understand, this means.. a second duel, should you survive the first!" He had been so much more upset because, the attack had come from his blind side so that he had not seen it at all until it was too late.

"Which, I doubt." He added quietly and stiffly.

Jarreau returned the sous-lieutenant's glare. "Go to the devil."

"After you!" Saint-Hilaire bowed stiffly, smiling pleasantly, yet without the kind emotion to go with it. "Since I believe you remember where to find us... I shall take my leave." With that he turned and headed back to his camp. He had kept his temper in check enough not to strike the man. Good.