A tavern somewhere in Lisbon

(OOC: Yes, I suck at titles! This is open to anyone in the area, especially if you're new and not sure where to start.)

Cotton was still a little shaken after his literal run-in with Captain Padstowe. Finding himself outside a tavern, he pushed open the door and went in, digging in his pocket for some cash. It was quite crowded inside, and he pushed through the crush to the bar, where he ordered a cup of wine before looking around.

Sitting in a dim corner of the tavern, the old rifleman was humming to himself a random tune. He pondered how long these lazy-lived days would last before they would be back in the fields again.
Absentmindedly he stoked his rifle which lay across his lap. He and the "old lady" already missed the action of the field.

He was shaken from his dreaming when the tavern door was flung open and a young rifleman made his way to the bar.

Cotton looked around, letting his eyes grow used to the dimness after a bright day.

He got his cup of wine and looked for somewhere to sit. The only place free was at a table where there was an older Rifleman sitting, running his hand along the browned barrel of a Baker.

He moved over. "May I join you?"

Dan smiled. "Sure you may, laddy."

He studdied the face of the younger officer who looked slightly agitated.
"What brought you into a dark hole like this on such a sunny day?"

Cotton sighed, took a mouthful of wine and relaxed a little.

"I was sent to go find someone, went skidding round a corner and flattened an officer. Not the best thing I've ever done."

Hagman chuckles silently at the image.

"But could have been worse, though. Take another sip of your wine and relax."

Holding out his mug of brandy to the lad.
"Dan Hagman. 95th. Cheers!"

Yes, it could've been worse... A lot worse.

He smiled. "Gabriel Cotton, 60th. And thanks."

Seeing the younger man ease up a bit he leaned back in his chair and took a decent gulp of his brandy.

Grinning, he asked "So, who was the officer you had the pleasure to flatten, Cotton?"

Being curious and thinking to himself that all of them officers deserved it in general. Always being so bustling an' all.

"A Captain Padstowe of the 50th. I'm plannin' on staying out of his way for a bit after that, though, I can tell ee."

He looked curiously at Hagman, who did not appear to be the usual sort of soldier to be found in a tavern on a day like today.

"So what brings you in here?"

Wondering if he should know that Captain Padstowe but not remembering it for the life of him he imagined the officers reaction to Cotton's encounter.

"You better do, laddy, you better do."

Leaving this train of thoughts at Cotton's probably deliberate change of topic he answered

"Ah well, me and the lass got a bit bored just strollin' the streets of Lisbon so we came here for a bit o' refreshment. One never knows what might show up."

Cotton made a face. "Lisbon's all very well when you're lookin' at it from the deck of a ship, but I'm sure I ain't had a breath of fresh air since arrivin'. It's too... townified for my liking."

He nodded at the rifle Hagman was holding. "She'm a beauty."

Hagman stroked his hand over the used looking but smooth wood of his rifle.

"That she is, aye. Been together for a long time, me and the lass. What about you, Cotton. Know your lady quite alright yet?"

Cotton smiled. "Yes. She never misses fire, only once, when it were raining Heavens-hard and St Michael would've had the devil of a time keeping his flint and powder dry."

He leaned back and took another mouthful of wine, wondering what the owner of the posada* had done to it. It was poor, thin, rotgut stuff.


*posada: wine-shop

Hagman raised an eyebrow at the confident words of the young rifleman. He grinned to himself as a wicked thought crosses his mind.
"Good to see that there'a another good shot 'round. Maybe we'll have the opprotunity to see who's best"

He winked at Cotton then got up and made his way to the bar to order some more brandy.
"Fancy something better than that thin piss they call wine?"

Cotton perked up at the thought of a shooting competition. He could hardly call himself a Rifleman if he didn't take pride in being good with the rifle.

He watched Hagman get up. "You mean they've got somethin' better than this piss-poor stuff?"

Hagman's grin spread into a genuine smile at the enthusiasm on the lad's face.
"Sure they do. Brandy?"

"Brandy? Don't mind if I do." He dug in his pocket for some money.

"So how long have you been in the 95th, then, Dan?"

Hagman came back to the table with two mugs of brandy and placed one in front of Cotton. He gestured to him to leave his money in his pocket.

"Next one's your turn, lad. Guess we'll be 'round a bit."

He sat down and took a sip from the brandy.
"I'd say it's about two years since I joined the 95th. Isn't too bad there. Who's in command of the 60th?"

He nodded his thanks and put his money away.

"Major Davy. He's a proper officer. If you're straight with him, he'll treat you fair. A proper Rifleman, he is." He looked around the room, then back to Hagman. "I thought the 95th had gone back to England. Who's in command of you at the moment?"

Hagman took a look around the tavern too and lowered his voice just a little, when speaking to Cotton.

"Aye, that' where they are, the 95th. Back home. But me and the lads stayed behind with Lieutenant Sharpe. He's a damn fine officer, that Sharpe."

Hagman took another deep draught from his brandy.

"We'll expect them back any day now."

"Wasn't he the one raised from the ranks?" Cotton asked curiously, a vague memory stirring.

Hagman couldn't conceal a grin about the boys curiousity. He started to take a liking of him, he thought to himself.

"That's him alright, lad. Old Nosey gave him his command himself."

Cotton was starting to like the older Rifleman. "So, what's he like?" He had another mouthful of the brandy, which was much better than the wine. "I've never had an officer who came from the ranks, you see."

Hagman took his time to think how best describe Sharpe, a pensive look on his face.
"He's a fine man. Came into his command quite out of the blue. Saved Nosey's life though."

He took another gulp of his brandy.
"Him being from the ranks makes things easier and worse all in one."

Now Cotton was completely captivated.

"Easier and worser? How do you mean? If you don't think I'm bein' rude, of course."