Planning for fun

"Only 'cause you nicked it when I wasn't lookin'." Oxley came over. "What're you doin' there, then?"

Thompson winked at de Guarde. "Makin' a shirt for a friend, 'cause I'm on the sick list, that's what."

De Guarde blinked, then glanced at what Thompson had in his lap and seemed to have forgotten much of why the chase had gone on for so long, or what the chase was about anyhow. He grinned and then with the smile still on his face he said: " I bet 'e'll be real glad fer it!"

He twirled the stick in hand and brought it out of view, when he noticed this. "Can we, can we'um see it?" He was catching some breath as well now, which showed, with his heaving chest and his face hot and red from running. Nothing the pale skin could show better.

"Hold on a moment, it's near finished. An' why don't you give Oxley his drumstick back?"

Thompson finished off the last few stitches and knotted the thread, biting it off close to the knot, and then held the shirt up. "What d'you think to it, then?"

"'Cos me n' Fingers decided to see if we could snatch sticks from our drummer boys! Was mighty good fun seein' em run!" He was glad now he hadn't drunk as much as he sometimes did, else he would've been all over the floor and nowhere near.

"He threatened to sit on us too, but see, we'um got away from that!"

He turned silent then, and looked with grave attention as Thompson finished the last knot, then as he lifted it up. He nodded , actually impressed. "Is very good, you've done that all from that shirt? Is very, very good, George!"

It was a good shirt, even Oxley could see that. He looked at de Guarde. "Well, I ain't sat on you, have I? And I won't, neither. Only, can I have me stick back now? Please?"

"Um...if yer say please 'again n'.." He smiled at Oxley deciding he'd won, but wanting to hear it too." N' if you say, .. Buckles.... Mr. n' sir, I agree that you have won this chase!" He chuckled brightly, very much eager to see the shirt more, so he wasn't as demanding about the rest.

Oxley rolled his eyes. "All right, then. Mister Buckles, sir, can I please have me drumstick back? Pretty pretty please?"

"Only you forgot to say I won t' chase." He tsked at the boy and grinned, fully satisfied with all the rest. Enough even that he dropped his hand, held the stick in view, but still alert enough that he would not let Oxley snatch at it. Not now. "Is all you have ter say, n' t' Stick is yours!"

Oxley sighed. "All right, then. You won the chase and all. Now please can I have me stick back?"

"Splendid!" He held out the stick, just after he'd tried tapping on Oxley's hand first. "Here yer go then. See, wosn't that hard." He grinned.

Oxley took the stick back and put it back in his crossbelt.

"Thanks." He looked over at Thompson. "Who's the shirt for, then? It don't look big enough for a grown man."

"For a friend, like I said," Thompson said. "And no, I ain't doin' one for you, Tom Oxley. Ain't got another shirt, for one thing."

He held it out to de Guarde. "There. What d'you think?"

"Think you've done a great job at it." He answered and slowly took it, to see how it was done. He looked happy, even if he hadn't dared say anything and a seed of doubt that it wasn't for him, was already trying to sprout its first leafs.

"Real' nice. T'.. t' friend will sure have loved it! That I am sure of. N' be real grateful ye thought of 'im too." He murmured fondly.

Oxley grinned and crossed to his own mess-table to stow his crossbelt and jacket.

"Well, it's yourn, then. If you want it." Thompson was a little doubtful whether de Guarde would want it, it being second-hand, so to speak, even if he had cut it down to fit the lad. After all, ashore, the boy could have anything he wanted, almost. Why would he want a second-hand sailor's shirt?

All doubt was for nothing then! It was his own shirt, it was for him and it was now given as gift. He hugged it without any words yet, though the action itself might've been enough. He'd looked so happy that his doubts were unconfirmed and that his worries were set free to leave him. A shirt sewn up, and sized for him.

"I do, I do." He said quickly, his voice hushed but so happy. "I do. I would want it." He added again and felt silly for how he'd acted. Still he knew he'd have responded the same if given another chance. Sure it was a second hand and cut down to fit and it wasn't anything like he could get or was able when he was home. But it was from Thompson. And that made it all, in his eyes, worth a good deal more.

He saw that Oxley's back was turned and though he knew he might test his luck he was only a Tar now, a boy. And he could do it without having someone day - act like a gentleman, not as some brat -. He hugged the private tight and grateful and then sat by his side, turning the shirt around in his lap, his gaze on the fabric and seams.

"Thankee." He whispered brightly. "I thought you wos' jus' saying. But you meant it...now I see." He smiled. He would change into it from the shirt he was wearing just nowt. Just the moment he'd gotten to his mess, and he could do so. And he'd wear it the next day too, he decided. Or he could change even now, not right there of course, but someplace more private. And then show Thompson how it fit him.

"Somebody stop that bugger!"

Andrew ducked around and under hammocks on the Tars' messdeck, a good several paces behind the swifter-footed Fingers. The ship's boy was still wearing Andrew's hat, even though it was too big for his head and he had to hold it up over his eyes with one hand. His bare feet made far less noise than Andrew's shoes over the deck, and more than one seaman cursed at them for causing a racket.

"Look out there!" Andrew narrowly avoided running smack into Everett, who was half-way rolled out of his hammock.

Sounds of stomping running feet and yells were already reaching the marine's berth even if the two boys hadn't yet. The marines having seen the first two boys enter, were wising up to what was going on.

The groans and complains of the sailors who had hoped to sleep were also heard coming left and right where the two boys were. Things such as:" Take it elsewhere!"

And :"Quiet down!" And: "Bloody young heathens!" All mixed with words that were lost to being muffled into the round pillows against which the men had their heads propped.

Thompson smiled as de Guarde hugged him. "I'm real glad you like it, lad. I am. Though, ain't you ever had a present afore?"

He couldn't believe de Guarde could be quite that happy over something as simple as a shirt, though the look of pleasure on the boy's face made all the work worthwhile.

"Not t' sort, no. I did from me parents see. Lots of them things they bought... but." He shrugged. "Isn't t' same at all. " And he knew he could not explain it, because he thought that even if he tried Thompson would not understand how his gift had been different than the one from his parents. And the latter could've in price , been so much more expensive, but still he was cherishing the present gift. And so gladly too.

"..isn't t' same. " He didn't want to be thought silly, but then he was so glad anyhow, and as much as he tried to contain it, it would still be there. "Means summat, this.. lots more." He whispered softly.

"Oh?" Thompson couldn't understand why this gift should be more treasured than anything de Guarde's parents had given him. "I'm pleased you like it, though." If the truth were to be told, Thompson had been worried that de Guarde would sneer at it and turn it down. It was only a simple thing, after all. It hadn't cost any money, like the boy's fine uniform had. Even his shirts were better quality than anything Thompson would ever wear, and this was just a simple shirt for a sailor, after all.

"I do,.." He paused for he thought that perhaps Thompson needed or atleast deserved an explanation even if he would be terrible at giving it. He studied the marine for a moment then looked down at the shirt. "See,... ye'um made effort fer it,.. I think. N' yer didn't jus' do it....." He frowned. Maybe he was wrong in assuming all that and he'd make a sure fool of himself.

"...See, it don't matter how much it cost.. though,..you think ter me that would be t' only thing to matter. But...it ain't so. N'...isn't easy to explain, jus'.. they'um two different' things, .. a cost.. n' a value ter a person."

"I done it 'cause I wanted to. An', I hoped you might like it. I'm real pleased you do. Though it ain't anythin' special, really. But I'm glad you like it."

de Guarde valued it? That wasn't something Thompson had expected at all, but it was nice to be appreciated.

"Then, that's what it is." He nodded. It was not something seen and bought, but something that someone had put an effort in and hoped that the one that would receive it would also be glad about getting. And exactly that, the effort and want and it being from a friend seemed to have had the boy smiling. So, he thought surprised, he was not being a snotty, bratty thing who would've turned his nose at the shirt, brushed it of in his usual manner and ridiculed Thompson. The marine was doing something that the boy felt less accustomed too. And the Terpsy was starting to become a part of him or perhaps he a part of that 'damned' ship. He smiled.

He did hear the ruckus from outside too and decided that Fingers did after all get the drumsticks from Andrews.

"Well, there you go." He wondered if it would become a favourite shirt, worn all the time, or if it would be kept for 'best' and only worn on Sundays and special occasions.

And there was more noise from further for'ard and he wondered what was going on.

He followed Thompson's gaze and grinned. "Oh they're at it as well. Think Fingers managed to snatch himself a pair of drumsticks too." He couldn't see why else would he hear the boots thumping after bare feet, and the familiar shouts of the marine drummer boy. "I would think at least." He added with a grin. "Is one point for us Tars at t' moment, it is!"

He still held the shirt in his hands, unwilling to let it go, even if he knew it was his.

(ooc - and now x.x I have to play the taxi! See you around later I hope!)