Training Day - Rifle Competition

'Did you suffer much on the retreat?' asked George, holding the knife by the tip.

"I haven't been with them then. I was injured at an earlier time and so had to remain in Lisbon, sir." He answered finishing the food he had had in his hands.

'Ah. Was it bad?' George fished out the container that held the remainder of the strawberries and settling them between himself and Willoughby, indicated that the boy should help himself.


[OOC: I seem to be feeding all your characters, except Mathew. XD What can I do? Russians equate it with love. XD XD XD]

"Enough to leave me unfit for duty, sir." And have him lie in bed, so that he did little, had a lot of time at hand, and was bored enough that he listened to the chatter of men, women and children outside. He looked at the strawberries and that looked more startled at Hunter. He was indeed...

Again his eyes strayed to the offered food, and slowly he reached for it, taking a single one, and as it seemed, the smallest of them also.

The boy was obviously disinclined to talk, but Hunter decided to make one more attempt.
'Have you seen much fighting?'
He too took a strawberry, eating it with a small smile, at the same time nudging the dish that held them a little closer to the hussar.

"Some, sir. " He didn't understand the officer. A private usually did not talk to their officer in any sort of casual way. It was smartest for them that they spoke little and to the point. In that way they would not land in trouble. It looked however that the captain wanted more.. either so or he also misunderstood him now.

"...Not.. much of the latest one though, sir." He took a strawberry and wondered if he could allow himself some cheek. the captain looked patient enough to permit it.

"..How do you feel about... the today's presentations, sir?" Now he could hope that Captain Hunter would not take offense.

'The skirmishing was interesting enough, but I am rather disinclined to watch the competition: the riflemen's accuracy makes me feel very bad about my own poor aim'. He chuckled, remembering how he'd missed a target at 20 feet.

He smiled, not allowing himself to do more than that even if the thought of the poor aiming captain was rather amusing. "It should be good,. ..with the finest marksmen attending. Sir." He took another given fruit very timidly, since he felt like he was a thief with each of them taken.

He dared spare a glance towards the field where the men were to fire from, when a signal was given. The crowd was beginning to gather, but the actual shooting hadn't yet begun.

"It is all in the breathing and a.."He hesitated then flushed, finding himself to have gone too far." ..it is good for the men.. us. A time to relax. Sir."

George looked at the timid hussar:
'I'm not going to bite you even if you eat them all,' he said meaning the strawberries. Then turning to look at the field he continued:
'Breathing or no breathing, I just can't hit anything at the distance greater than five feet. The pistol always feels too foreign in my hand'. He lifted the knife. 'Now, this I can be accurate with'.

"A pistol isn't the best weapon if you wish to hit something at a distance sir. Isn't too reliable. " He bit at his tongue and carefully dared take another of the sweetened fruits. " Though... though I am certain that you are an able a shooter, sir." He glanced at the knife. A weapon that was used at close combat. He did not wish to see how true to the word the captain was, though he suspected that the cold weapon could well be accurate with its aim.

Hunter snorted.
'I'm able to the extent of shooting a man if he is right in front of me. I blame my cavalry past: we found the pistols pretty useless when we rode our horses into battle'.

"Sir. I am in the cavalry." He lets the thought drop though. One did not argue with an officer no matter what they felt about the topic. Instead of pursuing it thus, he added:".. I suggest that you watch for Cotton. The rifleman of the 60th. If rumours hold any truth.. then he will be a prime example of the skills of riflemen. Then... there is another. Hagman.. I believe. Of the 95th. Also worthy of seeing. "

He grinned, he realised how proudly he spoke of the riflemen. "But alas, all of them should be reckoned with. Wouldn't be riflemen if they were as blind as a bat, sir."

'Ah, you are in the English cavalry, Willoughby,' said Hunter, but did not explain himself further. He'd heard the pride in the boy's voice as he spoke of the riflemen.
'Friends of yours, are they?'

"Yes, sir. Well.. they have the misfortune of having to bear with my presence." He smiled. " Mostly the 5/60th.. since at present I stand marked on their list."

'Well, it would seem from your demeanour that they proved to be amiable hosts.'

Needham turned around and smiling at the boy, asked: 'I must have seen some of your riflemen friends in the tavern last night'.

"Yes, although the men you saw, sir.." His recollection of the events were faint - vague, and he looked embarrassed, for he must've been well drunk himself when these men arrived. Had he seen them?

"Those were from the 95th, I believe."

'Yes, I do believe they were: I recognised Liuetenant Sharpe. So was there any trouble after we left, eh?' asked Needham, smiling playfully, knowing that the youth would never tell him if anything did happen.

"No sir. No trouble." And Needham was correct. Though there had been a sergeant that caused quite a stirring, he wouldn't be mentioned. Nor any other mischief that the drunken men came to do.

Needham guffawed and turned back to watch the field.
'So, where do you come from?' asked Hunter after a pause.

Timothy kept his face serious and convinced into what he had just said. "England, sir. Though I have been for so long in Portugal that I might soon call it a home." Why was the captain interested in his place of origin?

'Yes, I presumed as much. I meant which town or village or... well, you know'.

After a moment of thought the Hussar replied:"..Heathfield, sir."

'And which Heathfield would that be?' asked Hunter looking at the boy with curiosity: he had a vagur suspicion that the boy was not telling the truth.

The Hussar looked back at Hunter. He disliked to be questioned as if he had done something wrong. Yet since he was a trooper and this man was a captain, he couldn't just up and leave.

"...of Cambridgeshire, sir. "There, he hoped the man was at last satisfied. He could count on having him forget about the whereabouts of some private, so he was not worried that it were to be discussed.

Hunter sensed the boy's displeasure and fell silent, feeling disappointed at himself for having pushed too far and at the hussar, for misundertsanding his curiosity.