... maybe looking, probably not.

[forashilling]

Lass. Lass, listen ta me. No, quiet, quiet, listen t'me. No, you ain't no 'ma'am'. Sweet-faced lass like you, you ain't any older than Perkins, so ya sit down and listen ta me like good, sweet Perkins did.

Now I ain't goin' anywhere without m'Captain, ya 'ear? No matter what you say or do, I ain't going anywhere if Captain Sharpe ain't comin'. I ain't 'bout ta care what high-falutin' position he's in when I see 'im, except that he ain't allowed to get higher without me by his side. I ain't leaving my perch, lass, no matter what you say or do. You find me my Captain, then we talk.

[ He sighs, muttering. ]

Some lass young enough ta be my daughter tryin' ta order me about, and wit' my Captain missing. God save Ireland.

Comments

[sharpe]

They went and made me General while you were out taking a piss. That makes you last to know, Pat. You and the French.

[ He's a terrible liar--breaks into a sharp grin. ]

Taking orders from women. Ramona teach you that?

[forashilling]

[ Pat eyes him for the first comment and doesn't even bother. ]

Oh aye, Ramona's taught me plenty. [ Pat eyes him for a moment more. ] Though I wonder, sir, if you gotten a little deaf from the last cannon shot. Thought I said I ain't goin' anywhere.

[sharpe]

Oh, I heard you a'ight. Something about 'talking'. But I tell you what, Pat, you better have a bloody good reason to want to talk rather than just getting on with it.

[forashilling]

I woulda said ta get on wit' it if there's anywhere ta get on with. [ Dryly. ]

Unfortunately, there ain't any. The lass dithers worse than officers with itches up their arses.

[sharpe]

Be that as it may, it ain't polite t'talk about a lady like that.

[forashilling]

[ He looks at Richard for a moment, then shakes his head, smiling indulgently. ]

Aye, sir. [ Subject change! ]

If she asks you, sir, would you leave?

[sharpe]

Without you, Pat? Who'd make the damn tea and put me tent up?

[ Avoiding the question. ]

[forashilling]

Is that all I'm good fer, sir?

[sharpe]

Aye. That and killing. Yer bloody good at that.

[forashilling]

[ A flicker of a smile. ]

Thank ye, sir. [ Pause. ]

Say, sir, do you know anythin' 'bout wings?

[sharpe]

Except for the Spanish seeming to sprout em after the battle starts? What're you getting at, Pat?

that... icon is kind of ridiculously perfect for that tag.

[forashilling]

The last time I saw you 'round 'ere, you were goin' on 'bout wings. [ An expansive shrug. ] Real big ones, you said, big enough ta burst through yer jacket.

It's his 'welp' icon~

[sharpe]

Not allowed to eat 'is Majesty's swans, Pat, otherwise you know I would, but not so as I'd ruin me jacket.

Seriously. Wings? Like an...angel?

that icon is from challenge, isn't it.

[forashilling]

... Aye, sir. [ Pause. ]

Pardon me if I'm being thick, sir, but what would yer jacket 'ave ta do with yer eatin' of 'is Majesty's swans?

Um you know I have no idea. I took a lot from Company.

[sharpe]

Cause if you were stupid enough t'be eating swans, you'd best hide 'em right.

[ As if he hasn't eaten swan. He's playing innocent but you should know better, Harper. ]

it looks like the one where he goes 'a woman?????'. I have a good memory for random shit

[forashilling]

I ain't thinkin' that hidin' 'em under yer jacket would be hidin' 'em right, sir. [ Lips twitch. ] You must've never eaten any.

[sharpe]

That right? [ Slumping in the dirt and picking at his frayed sleeve. ] Where would you hide 'em?

[forashilling]

[ Harper looks upon that sleeve for a moment, then he sits down next to Sharpe.

He grins. ]

In m'pants, of course, sir.

[sharpe]

Nah. Not if the bloody thing's still moving y'don't. Vicious bastards, swans. They'll bite yer knackers clean off.

[forashilling]

[ Harper is really trying to not cackle by now. ]

And you know that well, sir?

[sharpe]

I heard it from a friend who heard it from a man who heard it from another man, Pat. Course I did.

[ Just. Such a look. ]

[forashilling]

Of course, sir. I never doubted that, sir.