Kortrijk, Vlaanderen, post Sharpe's return from the bar with DJ

[mm_chanter]

the lights in the farmhouse are at a relative low; less than friendly eyes may still be on the place from the outside and besides, night's coming on. the main room - it might've been a proper living room at some point, but it's full of mismatched chairs, at least one table, a battered radio and its share of spare assorted equipment now - is far from empty of people. Some cluster together in threes and fours, some sit alone, quite a few are in and out as errands demand. Conversations are as low as the lighting, but just as present.

"{day wasn't a total loss,}" one man says from his position in a chair backed against a wall - it's the taller, heavier one who'd taken it upon himself to search Sharpe for weapons. The square-jawed woman turns away from a paper-scattered length of tabletop long enough to roll her eyes at him in what looks like exasperation rather than disagreement, but doesn't comment in words.

"{Room wherever,}" says the medic's younger brother, gesturing with one arm at the haphazard seating. "{for now. Anybody tries to get a debrief together and it's off, though. Not sure how much sense that makes, but that's how it tends to go.}"

Seba doesn't know Sharpe's history, after all. that's a fair assumption not to make.

Comments

[and_far_away]

"And not very good at covering his tracks either, by the sound of it. What became of him when you found out?"

There'll be no judgment from him, whatever the answer is.

[mm_chanter]

"{Not really,}" Sylvain agrees grimly. "{Fortunately for us, I suppose. And his--}" the medic grimaces again, "{--friends got hold of him before we could do anything much about him. That was plenty lucky for him, I can tell you, though I don't imagine the Germans were all that thrilled with him either for getting himself found out. Hot water either way.}"

There's no real satisfaction in either his voice or his expression, and that tells a story of its own, though it's more about Sylvain's character than the betrayer they're discussing.

[and_far_away]

Sharpe nods, sympathetic to the other man's feelings on the matter. "{Hope for his sake they still had some use for him, then.}"

[mm_chanter]

"{Possibly bad news for us if they have, but...}" A beat, and then Sylvain nods silent agreement.

"{Now you see why An-Sophie reacted the way she did. Some of the others might do the same, fair warning.}" Not that Sharpe necessarily needs it, but better to say it than not and have someone get unexpectedly hostile later.

[and_far_away]

"{Appreciate it}", he says with a nod. "{If I know what's behind it, I can take it until they come around. However long it takes.}"

[mm_chanter]

Sylvain looks sideways at Sharpe at that, and his gaze is approving again. "{Now you sound like Dries,}" he says, "{or Makosa. You sure you weren't a--}" His mouth closes. then, "{Uh-oh. Speaking of...}" For what it's worth, Sylvain looks a little amused for a second on top of his warning.

It's not Brama angling their way at speed. It's the black-haired woman who'd been acting as secondary medic earlier, Lore.

[and_far_away]

"{When I was a soldier}", he says quickly before Lore reaches them, "{I learned how to work with soldiers. I can do diplomacy if I have to.}"

[mm_chanter]

"{It shows,}" Sylvain says plainly, and yes, that's quiet approval again. It doesn't look as though he was likely to say anything else, but if he was, Lore gets there before it can happen.

"{Debrief's in the works, Sylvain,}" she says without preamble. "{Ten minutes. Fifteen at the most, or Brama's likely to start getting impatient on us, and you *know* how fun that is.}" The medic grimaces understanding; apparently being one of the leader-types of a maquis doesn't mean all your quirks get an immediate pass. A beat, and then Lore goes briskly on. "{Introduce me, while we've got the chance?}"

Her gaze is on Sharpe. It's assessing, but frank as well. She's not smiling, but neither is she actively frowning. "{Anyone who can dodge An-Sophie and Iljo in one go needs an introduction.}"

That last doesn't sound as though it's arguable.

[and_far_away]

"{Richard Sharpe}", he tells her. "{Apple farmer, but I've been other things, including in enemy territory.}"

[mm_chanter]

"{English,}" Lore says immediately. "{A name like that, or am I wrong? American? Canadian? Whatever. By that last remark and the fact you got in here without those two spotting you for it, I can guess at one of those other jobs right now. Just so long as *we* weren't the enemies--}" something's gone rather understandably hard in both her eyes and her voice on those words, "{we'll be fine.}"

The hand she offers is short-nailed and not as soft as might be expected of someone's best office worker. "{I'm the one who usually tries keeping this crowd in line. Swear to God it's like herding cats sometimes. Just call me Lore. Everybody does except my other half when he's in trouble.}"

Sylvain suppresses a chuckle. "{Which is often,}" he chimes in, still grinning. For her part, Lore rolls her eyes, snorts faintly, and doesn't deny a thing.

[and_far_away]

"English", he confirms. "But I left that behind long ago - and you have my word, you're no enemies of mine." He smiles slightly. "Pleasure to meet you, Lore."

[mm_chanter]

"{Glad to hear it,}" Lore says promptly. "{The ally thing; where you call home is your business. Half of us'd be hypocrites if we said differently, not to mention we'd have DJ, Andy and this man right here--}" she jerks a thumb at Sylvain, who raises his own hand in a palm-outward gesture that looks like something halfway between warding off and agreement, "{--angry at us about it just to start. Anyway.}"

People on the other side of the room do seem to be clustering together a little more than they were before. Seba is visible in the gathering knot, still chatting to the grey-haired man called Brama. "{Sylvain,}" Lore goes on, "{do we get the others up for the debrief? They'll be hopping mad if we don't, but considering... and speaking of.}" Her gaze goes back to Sharpe, though it's not unkind. "{I haven't got a problem with you so far, but good luck convincing everyone, and no offense but we don't know anything much about you. New quantity, you know?}"

She can't know what Sharpe himself has already agreed to about cell debrief, so why wouldn't she tread a little carefully?

[and_far_away]

"{I'll sit this one out}", he says without being asked. "{Maybe I'll go back and sit with young DJ, unless you were going to bring him in on it.}"

[mm_chanter]

That gets an approving nod from Lore and a thoughtful one from Sylvain. "{We probably should bring him in on it,}" Lore says, "{considering everything today. All the others too, if we can.}"

"{I'm not making Dries get up if it isn't vital,}" Sylvain interrupts.

There's movement over Lore's shoulder, and then Seba is back just in time to hear his brother's words. "{Brama says debrief in ten--ah, Lore already got there, sounds like. I guess you're deciding--}" Seba cuts a knowing look at Sharpe, "{who's going where for it? Dries will be hopping mad if we don't at least wake him up, you know. A couple of us can at least do that much.}"

[and_far_away]

"{Maybe you could hold it in the infirmary}", Sharpe suggests. "{Let Dries listen without having to get out of bed.}"

[mm_chanter]

Sylvain looks somewhere between considering and approving at Sharpe's suggestion. "{All of us, fit in there?}" Seba chuckles. "{Maybe if some of us stood in the hallway. Might work that way, actually. We'll see what bouncing that one off Brama does, though.}"

Lore squares her shoulders. "{I'll handle him. Maybe a couple of you wake the others up while I'm seeing just how far that idea ricochets when it hits?}"

[and_far_away]

Sharpe chuckles. "{I'll leave that to those of you as know them. If somebody could show me where to wait?}"

[mm_chanter]

"{You may as well stay out here for the moment,}" Lore answers, "{if this idea really does fly and we all wind up in the hallway and the infirmary. Seeing as that's an if as yet, you might end up moving.}" Her eyes cut to a door in the farther wall that ostensibly leads to a kitchen or some other room. No offense, Sharpe. Relative unknown quantity, you know.

Seba turns hallway-wards. "{Well, c'mon, brother mine. If this's going to happen, better you looking after the wounded than me and besides,}" he grins, "{I rather think Makosa likes having your concerned attention trained on him. DJ,}" he says, lowering his voice in an exaggerated imitation of his sibling's softer one and pulling an overly intent, serious face, "{I need you to do this for me. It's terribly important that you do.}"

"{Oh shut up,}" Sylvain grumbles, smacking Seba on the arm. And blushing faintly, it should be said.

[and_far_away]

Sharpe looks between them, and hides his grin - both at the brotherly banter and at the implication of the words. (19th century or not, he has no issue with where men find comfort in wartime.) "{Right then. Here it is.}"

[mm_chanter]

It's a longer story than it might first sound, the comfort in wartime thing, but no one's elaborating in quite that way as yet. Give it a while.

Lore doesn't bother hiding her own snicker. "{Ah, get out of here. Go on, you two. And Seba, if you're jealous, why don't you just say so? I'm sure we can find someone other than your wife to adore you.}"

She's clearly chirping him. she's smirking all over her face. As he exits down the hall in his brother's wake, Seba gives her a salute that--well. that's not really much of a salute, is it? Too few fingers upraised, for one.

((OOC: Want to jump ahead to after the debrief? I can set up a new post for after it's over if you like, and bring Makosa back into things, maybe?))

[and_far_away]

(Sounds like a plan! :D)