(sharpe's locket) ♖ video: open to all courts

[greenjacket]

(ACCIDENTAL VIDEO)

...Bloody hell.

[ the locket is propped open on richard sharpe's lap. it catches the lower half of his face and shows a steep-angled frame of one green-jacketed shoulder as he works: trying to transplant a second charm from it's own chain onto the locket's. why carry around two bleeding necklaces when they can be consolidated?

but the chain slips in his calloused fingers and he swears a second time. bugger. ] I should sell it. [ he talks to himself. ] Or else let Pat handle the fool thing. He likes talking. Talks enough for the both of--

[ again, something tumbles; slips; goes awry. sharpe drops another string of strong oaths. ]

╍ ╍ ╍

(PURPOSEFUL VIDEO, LATER THAT DAY)

Who in Caer Glaem's got some scissors I can borrow? [ he doesn't want to ask the damned fairies; don't make him ask the damned fairies. he'd rather the damned fairies didn't even exist! ]

And while we're at it -- [ huff ] -- speak up if any of you poor sods are British army. Either bloody court.

[ he can't yet decide if it will be a windfall or a disaster if he and patrick are the only poor bastards to find themselves absent without leave from their own army. a windfall if he finds some he can order around, he supposes. and a right pain in his arse if he comes across anyone whose rank exceeds his own.

and lacking in many graces, major richard sharpe fails to identify himself. he just sits and glowers at the locket with a scarred face and an impatient expression. ]

Comments

video.

[rube]

[ben is slowly, s l o w l y, making his way onto the network. even if it's taking him weeks at a time to just use the locket once or twice, he's getting himself out there. this time, all it took for him to use it is a familiar face.]

Could just use a knife for whatever you need cuttin'.

video.

[greenjacket]

My hair wants cutting. [ ... ] You use scissors for that.

[ sharpe is not a squeamish man. nor is he usually even a very particular man. but some corners of his life thrive on regulation. in this case, he doesn't want to bother with his folding knife for the cutting of hair. he wants that little reminder of home: even if it only comes in the form of sitting on castle steps with a cracked mirror and a pair of scissors, swearing to himself as he cuts crooked. ]

video.

[rube]

Razor or a knife works just fine in a pinch.

[he squints at the man,]

You picky or somethin'?

video.

[greenjacket]

Christ, no! I'm not picky.

[ yes. yes, he's very picky. particular, more like. fastidious. but only in a few quarters of his life. all else is blood stains and beard stubble. ] And so if I were on the march I'd use anything short of my own sword to do the job. [ because why waste a good sword on hair? ] But I ain't on the march, am I? So I may as well ask.

video.

[rube]

[only calling it like he sees it, sharpe. he squints at him for a moment, but doesn't say a thing on how he thinks the guy is lying about being picky.]

Good luck with that.

[if it were ben, however, he'd use whatever he could find. he's used to poverty, used to lack of resources.]

video;

[chromosomes]

Not British army, but United States Marines.

video;

[greenjacket]

[ american! and a marine? he knows a thing or two about marines. or, at least, what marines are to the 19th century. a small detachment of infantry lent to the navy for their ships. laughed at by the sailors, but well-loved by sharpe. he has a soft spot for the oddities. and, of course, for their nock guns. ]

American, eh? [ he sounds cautious. they are still at war, after all. ]

video;

[chromosomes]

I'm not going to shoot you.

[ Helpful, John. ]

video;

[greenjacket]

Of course you're not. [ a suspicious glance around his spot. ] Whoever you are, you're nowheres near me.

text.

[tensed]

we have more armies now?

voice. stubbornly.

[greenjacket]

[ sharpe doesn't like reading. it's not that he can't read -- because he can, certainly. he was taught his letters when he was in his early twenties during a long long stay in an indian dungeon. and he's grateful for it. it's more that he doesn't enjoy reading. he's slow at it, still, and there is a tendency for words to crop up that he cannot understand.

so he talks back, bull-headed and keen to stamp the text out of this unknown responder: ] Aye. Or at least some fractions of one. But I'm less concerned with the others for the time being.

[ because if he and pat are the only ones... ]

perma-text. rock meet hard place.

[tensed]

whats your concern

perma-voice, for his part. what a hoot this will be.

[greenjacket]

My army. [ he growls -- not upset with the explanation but with the necessity of reading. ] Might bloody well be a General struttin' 'round here for all I know. And I won't know unless I ask, right?

video;

[pontificus]

I have met three from France, though none were soldiers. None from England though. [She dips her head.]

I am Lucrezia Borgia of Rome, neither a soldier nor a countryman I'm afraid.

video;

[greenjacket]

[ sharpe doesn't know who the borgias were. oh, likely hogan would know. any of the other educated officers. certainly! and they would tell him he's being a right lout when he soundly skips his introduction and jumps straight to asking her ladyship: ] French? Soldiers or civilians?

video; shhhh I want this cr

[pontificus]

Civilians, I would imagine. A boy not older than ten, and a servant.

c:

[greenjacket]

Hmm. [ ...as long as there are no soldiers, then: ] No matter, then. I suppose they ain't my concern. Thank you, miss.

video--later that day

[all7seas]

Oi -- British army?

[Okay he hadn't known that there were any actual REAL people here. Not like King Arthur's sister and Jack Frost and bugger all else.]

....From Great Britain?

[greenjacket]

No, mate. From bloody Timbuktu.

[ yes of course from great britain! are you stupid, you strange long-haired man... ]

[all7seas]

You don't look Timbukish to me, mate, and I'm one as would know. Are you in the habit of hanging men?

[Might as well find out whether his neck will be stretched at this man's hands, given the chance.]

[greenjacket]

...When the stupid buggers have earned it, aye. [ but he sounds weary. tired. drained. clearly, he doesn't like the thought of hanging. but sharpe knows the army cannot march without discipline, and he will hang a rapist as quickly as he will clobber a thief.

what he doesn't do -- tries not to do -- is flog a man. ]

video;

[parallels]

[Well. At least the accent is familiar. Clara pops the video feed on her bracelet on.]

British. Not part of the army though.

video;

[greenjacket]

[ he hems and haws and clears his throat and perhaps sits up a little straighter, now that he was talking a to a woman. ]

I imagine not. [ because...well. woman. they didn't recruit women -- yet women found their way into the baggage trains. and with a deep pang, he realizes he misses the soldiers' wives. one of them would have had scissors for him. ] Where are you from, lass?

[parallels]

Well, you might imagine that I've got scissors then, at least.

[Her eyebrows are up but she keeps her tone light.]

Lancashire. But I live in London now.

[greenjacket]

Yorkshire. [ the broad vowels betray him, anyway. ] But I lived in London once.

[ of course he hasn't seen england's green and pleasant lands for some time now. but there's no doubt in his mind: he's english. ]