10 July, Evening in the Guards' camp

And there it was. He had his answer, or near enough.

"Yeah," he muttered. He was silent a moment more, thinking, then abruptly pushed to his feet. The kettle was lying nearby and he grabbed it – it was full, but she didn't know that. Or maybe she did. He found he didn't particularly care. He glanced around, careful to avoid Jenny's eyes; the fire was low enough and everything else would keep. "I'll be back."

And that was that. "I should have had this conversation with someone like Janet," Jenny thought to herself as she wandered off.

It was some time later before Jenny saw Christian again. She came into Woodmarsh's tent and was pleased to find his batman there instead of the lieutenant himself. "Woodmarsh still not back yet?" She asked, unwrapping her shawl and throwing it on the cot.

"No," he replied, picking up the shawl, folding it and setting it aside. Not, he admitted, that the lieutenant would be in any state to care about the state of his cot when he arrived back.

Not very talkative tonight, then. Poor lamb. She had been giving his words some thought in the hours past. "Well good. Listen dear. Did I hurt you?" She reached out and took his hands to stop him from distracting himself with the clothes brush and so forth. She wanted to look at his face.

He'd been prepared for any number of possible conversations, but this had not been one of them. "I...No. Wh--No. Everythin's fine."

Stammering? Blushing? Brilliant. Privately he wondered if he'd ever told a more obvious lie in his life. His first instinct was to busy himself with something else, but she still held his hand and some treacherous part of him was still reluctant to let go.

His hands felt hot to Jenny, but perhaps that was because her own were so cold. "Are you sure?" she asked gently, searching his face. "Me, I lost my heart a long time ago, so I don't have a heart to be wounded. I'm a heartless old whore," she laughed. "I've got nothing left to give but my body, and all I do is take."

Christian stared at her in helpless distress. "Jenny, stop it. You can't--That ain't true!"

She was still smiling, the traces of her laughter not having quite left yet. "But it is, darling, and that's about all there is." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "You're a very good man and I'm as fond of you as I could possibly be. But I'm an empty shell, darling. You know that! This is all that I am." She looked down at herself and held her arms wide, still holding onto his hands.

"No," he said, very firmly and gently, "It ain't."

Her smile was gone and her voice was quiet. "Mike, please. It's hopeless."

He shook his head. "Not to me, it ain't."

She kissed him again, full on the mouth this time. "I've half a mind to take you, right here on the lieutenant's cot. I told you all I do is take." She smiled again. "That'd show you. But somehow I don't think it'd help."

Woodmarsh, their positions, the risk, everything which had mattered so much before was suddenly quite forgot. Grinning, he pulled her close and kissed her again.

Woodmarsh would not be in any state to care about the state of his cot, anyway.