TD - 15th Hussars HQ - Major's office

"No, it wasn't our fault. Probably hasn't eaten anything the whole day..." The Major refused to think that they had tried the Trooper's nerves too much. It had been necessary to make him understand his failures!

He walked back around his desk and opened one of the drawers. He took out a bottle of highland single malt whisky and glasses and poured a fair amount of the amber liquid into two of them. Walking back to the Captain and Willoughby he handed Pierce one glass.
"Get this down his throat, Pierce. That'll revive his spirits" and with that he took a decent gulp from his own glass.

Pierce looked a little dubious at giving alcohol to someone who might not have eaten the whole day, but nodded:
'Right, sir'. He slapped Willoughby gently again. 'Come on, Willowy Willoughby, wake up'. He pressed the glass against the boy's lips, tipping a fraction of the contents into his mouth.

At the first sensation of Whiskey come down his throat, the young hussar coughed. He tried to focus his vision on the man that was giving him the drink and in the meanwhile, to recollect what had just happened and why he lay on the floor, with his head against the man's knees.

He craned his neck somewhat more, so that he'd have an easier time drinking and eased himself out of the fit of coughs.

Pierce lifted Willoughby's head, supporting it with one hand, while the other held the glass, allowing the boy to drink at his own pace.
'Ah, he waketh!' Pierce's voice was lightly mocking again. 'Drink up, Willowy. Let's just hope you have a better head for drink, than you do for reprimands'.

Still rather dazed, he drank timidly, coughing twice more before he was able to drink and know how to prevent himself from reacting poorly to it. He squinted his eyes, studied Pierce a moment.

Reprimands?

What .. oh! He wasn't going to hang, he wasn't going to be shot. It was coming to him slowly and he began to recognise the man that helped him with the alcohol. No, perhaps this was still a dream. Captain Pierce was a cruel, harsh man. He would never have done anything but push the body of an unconscious man further away from him.

"Th..ank you." He uttered feebly.

(and with this i need to hit the sack for today x.x )

Pierce held the boy's head, letting him take the final sips. Making comically surprised face, he exclaimed:
'He speaketh too! He'll start walking soon, if we are not careful'. He put the glass on the floor for the moment and patted Willoughby's cheek. 'Welcome back, Willowy. Do you remember my name?' He asked to see if the boy's head has cleared, then smirked: 'Just don't faint again if you do'.

Know his name? Yes, he was starting to get the right picture! Captain Pierce! His eyes widened for he realised that he was on the floor and that he had fainted before the two men. All came back to him in a rush and he pushed up trying to get to his feet as quickly as he were able. He'd spent enough time already on the floor.

But, it was never good to stand up quickly when feeling dizzy or just after one had fainted. And as he did attempt it, he was back clutching at his temples and with Pierce's arm saving him from worse.

"..Sir. I'm sorry sir." He spoke hastly. "Captain Pierce, sir." He answered the earlier question. Though he'd embarrassed himself he was barely containing the smile that was creeping to his face. He was not going to be hanged or shot, and that was enough to celebrate ! The Whiskey he'd been given to refreshen him also on gave him some strength. He would just need to eat fast, else his empty belly may proove to be a problem.

Pierce did not expect the boy to try and get away from him quite so quickly and nearly missed the moment when Willoughby's head 'insisted' that he should 'lie' back down. He swatted Willougby lightly on the shoulder.
'Would you look at it? Are you trying to give me bruises?' growled Pierce. 'Now let's see if you can follow a simple order, which I doubt you could, and lie still!' After a small pause, Pierce added: 'I will let you jump about the moment the doctor says you can, Willowy.' Pierce could not help it: the impromptu nickname he'd given the boy, seemed to have stuck.

Timothy made a face at being accused of an inability to follow orders. He kept his mouth shut however, since his recent actions might have encouraged and supported the thesis.

"Yes, sir." He murmured instead, lying as still as he could. He hoped that the captain would not suddenly decide that being a Hussar's - trooper's - pillow was a demeaning thing and yell at him for fainting.

"Thank you, sir." He said instead, feeling grateful, not only for being caught before he fell - for judging by how he hadn't felt much of a bruise to his temple, that was indeed the case - but also for the decision that they've made. Horse shit mucking was still awful, and he knew that he'd complain or start to, when tired terribly, he would need to shove about another pile.

McIntyre had followed the proceedings on his office's floor only with slight interest. He trusted Pierce to handle it by himself. Though he was a bit concerned about Willoughby. He just hoped this damned doctor would be here soon.

"He talkes again?... good. That means he didn't receive any real damage. Just get some more of the whisky into him and he'll be well and about soon. And keep talking to him, so he does not lose his conscience again." The truth was, he was at his wit's end here somewhat. Someone collapsing in his office wasn't a thing that happened on a regular basis.
He walked over and poured himself another drink.

Pierce's eyes twinkled with amusement: it would seem that despite the fainting, it was the Major not Willoughby who needed the drink most. He lifted Willoughby's head again and brought the glass back to his mouth.
'You heard the Major, drink up, Willowy'.

"It's.. Willoughby, sir." He corrected thinking that the captain hadn't heard his name right. He drank some more, having little choice but to do so. If the two men would continue for long, they would hold in their office a drunken Hussar, for it was this hussar who did not drink and thus could certainly not hold too much of it.

'Yes, Willowy Willoughby. I know, I am not the one who fainted' said Pierce having the same fears as Willoughby and putting the glass away for the moment.

".. My... apologies sir. " He paused: "... I am well now. I can stand, and shan't be a burden to either of you any longer." He looked seriously at Pierce. "... The.. stables need cleaning." He hadn't been in them yet but he was certain it was so.

Pierce glared at the trooper. 'What did I tell you? Lie still! Honestly, one would think it was such a simple order to follow!' He laid a restraining hand on Willoughby's shoulder. 'You shall pay the doctor the courtesy of at least waiting for him'.

"I am still, sir." He remained silent a short while, and then spoke again soberly. "...Since I have.. lost my mount.. " He wanted to ask what he was to do now, but he was at loss of words. Since Bella was the horse of a regiment he had, by joining his, lost her too. He'd lost his chance to fire more of the baker rifles and wondered if he would loose more with the next trial. He did not feel like speaking any more.

He wanted to fight. Wanted to prove himself where it counted, but of course, only others and those, favourites , pets of the officers could be offered such a chance and be raised to the sky in glory for doing nothing more but shooting a Frenchman.

He could be on one side taunted how he did nothing, and on the other be told to do nothing. How ironic.

I know, Willowy'. Pierce paused 'I am not going to let you mount a horse until the doctor say he allows it, besides you'll be so busy mucking out the stables, I doubt you'll have time to seat on a horse in the next few days'.

"Yes sir, I know sir. I was just wondering whether and...when I may come to..see one?" He felt strange left to lie on the floor as if something awful had been wrong with him. He did only faint. A doctor called was to confirm that and though he wished to prove it himself, he would not go against an order. And the order was, stay still.

He wondered how many horses the Hussars had, and which were still the original come from England, and which had been purchased in Spain and Portugal or in all, on their way here.

"..And,.. sir. ..my name is Timothy Willoughby. Not Willowy." He hesitated and wondered why on earth was he called by that name.

'I know' growled Pierce. 'And yet, in the light of present circumstances, Willowy seems to suit you better.' He allowed himself to show a tiniest hint of a smile. 'And you'll see one when you'll see one, trooper'.

":..Yes sir. Sorry, sir." The youth replied. It was hard to remain on the floor with the two officers in the same room. Somewhat strange at it's core. What if another would come - though a doctor would know and see to him without question. But to disobey an order? No. Not an order of his Hussars.

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, least he'd worry the captain. He was a harsh man, the captain, but a fair one. Well cruel and he may have sometimes delighted in shaking his troopers up, a more of a player of minds. Still, though he'd been late in coming, it was never because of this man that he could be so.

He'd forgotten how strongly he felt for being who he was, for serving with the Hussars. Almost as if the fall with which he had injured his head, had blocked out those feelings and memories. Horsemen were different, better. They were perhaps sometimes wild, sometimes hard to control, yet their hearts were steadfast in the right place. Officers to troopers. So was how the sergeant of the Scot Greys showed himself to be. A right man, with good suggestions and a helpful hand.

And so were the 15th Hussars. Not the Infantry, no. They were...
..
..well, one look at Hakeswill could tell you easily what they were.

"I am.. glad I belong to the Hussars, sir. ...noone better, that."

McIntyre had emtied his second glass of whisky and turned back to the two man on his floor at hearing the Trooper's last words. Although his countenance betrayed nothing of it, his heart leaped in joy at hearing them.

"Glad to hear that, Willoughby." He said with a slight touch of warmth in his voice "And now we will make sure it stays this way". He turned to the door "Now where is this damn docotor when one needs him?" glaring at the door, almost as if he could make the doctor turn up simply by doing so.

"The damn doctor is here, now, if it please ye." Rob started, unsure whether to grin and shrug it off or to point out that there were enough men here to keep him steadily working.

"ANd is't this laddie again, is't?" He gestured curtly at the now familier figure lying, or being held, down, and made his way over, taking little time with introductions. He was a doctor, there was a patient. "And what happened here, then, ay?"

Pierce lowered his head, smothering a grin promted by the Doctor's remark. 'He fainted, Doctor'. He said curtly.

Willoughby tilted his head down, which strained his neck since he was propped against Pierce's knees lying down so. His chin touching the hollow (or above it) of his neck he felt the warmth come from his cheeks. Laugh it up, aye. Fainted.

"..Good day, sir doctor."

"Sir doctor, ay? I could get a-used ter that." Robert smiled genially, kneeling down to take a closer look. "ANy one else involved?"
he'd had cases where one man had been the sole attention, and another, seeming bystander, had been worse off. Not normally when he was one watch alone, thankgoodness.

"Any particular reason he fainted? and when was t'last time ye was drinking, laddie?"