7 - Knight of Pentacles - (U) Practicality / (R) Unearned Ease
From Up and at 'em
Amiens, France, Spring 2076
Lieutenant Cunningham-Redbridge fiddles with the sole of her boot. It can move a half-inch from the rest by now.
"Don'ae be pickin' at it, you'll only break them, I'll have to carry you everywhere."
She smiles at him and his teasing "For you, James, I'll keep on picking"
"Oi, Lieutenant Slybacon, once yer done makin' doey eyes a' the jock, let me know what size shoe you wear."
Fairfax doesn't stop as he speaks, carrying on over to a crate, which he start to rummage through.
"Four, why do you ask?"
His only response is to fling a pair of boots at her.
"One not so careful owner, Colour Seargent?"
" 'Course. You think I've got money for one of these?"
He gestures to his right wrist, which now has two watches, one equisitely made.
"Is the Colour aware that such looting is..." her adjudant pipes up.
Arthur looks up from extracting dirt from his fingernails to say
"This is war, mate. Finders keepers."
Not quite officious enough to press the matter with the big East Anglian, she turns back to the lieutenant.
“Also, Ma'am, why do you permit him to call you Slybacon, and why does he do it?"
"Because he's saved my life more times than you've pleasured a man, and been in the army since you were in primary school. As for why, it's a joke on my surname. Like how he calls McVitie" she gestures to James "Biscuits. Bit subtler than him always referring to you as Private Bignose, or a whole host of ones that don't bear repeating."
As Mirasol pointed out, Oliver deserves stories too, so here's a tale of the scottish scout, with his own unit before the expedition to the mediterranean.
8 - 5 of Pentacles - (U) Poverty / (R) Alternatives
From Isles Silent No Longer
Lerwick, Shetland Islands, Scotland, Year 129
"Four days. Maybe five at a stretch."
James doesn't respond, he just sits on the crate and ruminates on the supply situation.
He has little time to consider it before Oliver makes his entrance, surprisingly loudly for a man who can be so stealthy. His cousin begins to speak, but sees Kaðlín sitting quietly in the corner, and near seamlessly shifts from English to Gaelic. “We ‘ave a solution. But you probably ain’t goin’tae like it, and the norse’un’s goin’t like it as much havin’ ‘er head boiled”
“We meaning you and Douglas?”
“Actually me and Emily this time. We decided that the solution to our situation is the Norwegians.”
“They've already refused to help us, so I assume you're going to propose either theft or extortion?”
“Well, theft's a strong word, but perhaps some things might get lost or mislaid, after all, that is what the wights of these isles are known to do…”
“Are they, Ollie, are they really?”
“Nah, just some bollocks Emmy came up with, but those bloody vikings don’t know that, do they?”
James smiles at his cousin. “Listen, I don't like the Norwegians any more than you do, but I also don't want to cause too much trouble. The Icelanders are already angry with the Manx and their piracy, and I doubt they can tell the difference between types of Briton, and if they kick up a stink, that’ll make the reclamation of Skye all the harder. But Lieutenant Emily Catrionna Macleod-Lloyd is our ranking officer here, and you two’s idea of a fun date is to go steal supplies from a bunch of arrogant Norseman, go ahead.”
“Thanks, Jim, knew I could count on you.” Oliver leaves with a smile on his face, leaving Kaðlín with a confused look, but when she asks what they were talking about, James brushes it off as being a family matter, concerning Oliver’s relationship with Emily, and that was enough explanation for the Icelander, at least for the time being.
