Drinking with a Major - LP 11/14/19

Ol'random · 2019-11-15 10:47:20 AM

Sgt. Terrence and Mjr. Varus, hares.

The past few weeks had been hard on Terrence; the increased workload and the shoes he had to fill have been taking their toll on the still young hare. The relatively new sergeant hadn't a free breath since he'd reported for duty before sunrise this morning, and even now sat filling out forms and finalizing work that members of his unit had overlooked or handed in during the day. Slouched as he was in a large armchair by the fire one could mistake him for being off duty from a distance, what with his disheveled appearance and a quarter empty glass of scotch in one paw. However, his uniform tunic, while unbuttoned and loose, was still on his person with the linen shirt beneath it wrinkled but still respectably clean.

One beast who's no stranger to hard work is Major Varus, though the workaholic has been known to kick back and take a break every now and then. And this is one of those times. He's still short-staffed, like always, and having to deal with duties he'd normally delegate to underlings makes him weary. Leaning against the bar, he says, "Th' best wine y'got, an' be quick about it." The Private behind the bar nods and hurriedly fills his order.

Terrence barely registers the major entering, so intent as he is on his work. A light clank rings out as he sets the glass down, letting the page he'd been holding fall into his lap. With a groan the sergeant takes of his spectacles and rubs the bridge of his nose, somehow sinking even deeper into the cushioned chair.

Varus harrumps when his glass is brought. Hs sips, and sighs into the glass. "Y' evah been in th' officah's lounge, lad?" he asks the private, who shakes their head. "Nah, don't s'pose y' have. It's comfy. Nicer 'n' this room. But mah fellow officahs are a stuffy bunch at times. No... Y' get a bettah feel f'r th' pulse o' th' mountain in 'ere, wot." He takes another sip, while the Private secretly wishes Varus would move on. "That, an' at this time o' night th' lounge is bloody deserted..."

Peering over the edge of the armchair to give Varus a look over his spectacles, Terrence chuckles. "Well, Majah, I daresay that's why I'm in here at the moment." Paperwork momentarily forgotten, he stands, grabbing his drink and wanders over to the older hare. "So how've you been, wot? I've been too busy to keep up to date with the goings ons around here, sah..."

Varus casts a glance at the younger hare. Knocking back his glass, he drains it dry, then back to the counter. "More, Private." He sighs, looking weary. "Trying to work out mah patrol, wot. I 'ad t' promote Felicity, for 'er valor, but not a one o' mah Privates left are Corporal material. That, an' mah othah Corporal, Dominik, is out 'eavens know where doin' 'eavens knows wot. An' poor Konner is seemin'ly deceased... I already 'ad t' inform 'is parents, aftah th' search pahties turned up empty... None o' this is fun." Weirdly, he seems little disturbed by the transfer of Zolomon. Who says leaders don't play favorites. "Looks like I'll need t' wrangle in anothah temporary Corporal like Maxim was mah temporary Sahgeant..."

"I see. Give my congratulations to Felicity when you see her, please. " Terrence sets himself next to the major and holding his glass for a refill. "So, well, actually, sah, I've had a few ideas concerning pvt. Dom and all that." He takes a gulp once the scotch is refilled, muttering in a dark tone, "Might even be able to recover poor Konner's remains while we're at it, wot."

Varus harrumps, sipping from his re-filled glass. "Aye. Well, yahr a sahgeant now. Y' c'n speak freely. Wot ideas 'ave y' got?"

"Ah, right." Setting the now empty glass down, the sergeant leans his side on the counter to face Varus. "Right, majah. Well, firstly, get a small group together - volunteers and certainly no recruits - and prepare for a long trip into the marsh." Terrence gives a grim laugh. "With winter coming on we, as I can't imagine you'd sit this out, should be prepared for the cold and wet. Layers, backup clothes, and all that. The whole shebang, wot! We'll need mostly runners and trackers to well, track Dom down, but we should be prepared to spend quite a bit of time out there. Very basic, but if we prepare it all is should remain simple. As for convincing the private to come back himself, well, I'd imagine you've got that covered, sah."

"Do the scouts know how much of the marsh burned after we set it all on fire?" the Major asks. "That would 'elp narrow down th' search area, I should think... Y' got a good plan there."

Nodding, Terrence adjusts himself on the seat. "Right - I'll be sure to give the scouts an overview of that, wot. Eh, private, can I have water?" As the sergeant's request processed, he gives a wry grin."Perhaps it is good. Anyhare could've thought it up, though. The biggest point is simplicity and carefulness - less things that can go wrong will go wrong."

Varus scoffs. "Don't sell yahrself short, Lad. I think y've th' makin's of a bloody good tactician, wot. Given time, an' experience..." His sips his wine, letting his words sink in.

Terrence simply raises an eyebrow at the praise. "Perhaps..." He takes a long draft from the water before turning back to the counter and staring down. "Certainly I don't have much experience in fighting, wot. Really that deal in the swamp were the second and third battles I've been in."

Varus mmms, studying the nearly empty glass in his paw. "Y' fought well f'r one so young. Y' do yahr fam'ly name proud, wot. You'll gain more experience ovah time though. It's just paht o' th' job..."

"Well, thank you, Sah." Terrence replies with a slight grin that doesn't match his eyes. "Even if I haven't done anything for the Cadwallader name, I expect I will in future, wot, whether or not I want to, eh?" There's a more full laugh this time, but it soon dies out and the sergeant tilts back the water glass to finish the liquid off.

Varus mmms. "Aye, well... In due time. It'll 'appen, yah'll be an 'ero, ev'rybeast will cheer, th' whole shebang, wot. It's 'appened t' me enough times. 'Ave y' seen all mah bloody medals?"

"Yes, very shiny, wot." The sergeant gives a cheeky smile thats far more genuine than before. "Daresay I've seen them every time we've been out on parade!" Terrence adds a wink for good measure. "Bloody sun always reflects off them all into my eye, if you pardon me saying so, sah."

Varus harrumps, and actually chuckles, which the usually serious older hare rarely ever does. "Aye, th' bloody things blind me, too. An' they get rathah heavy aftah awhile. That's why I keep 'em in mah chambah." He finishes off the last of his wine with a gulp. "Got 'em all back when I took more risks an' acted more darin' 'n' fool'ardy, wot. They used ta give out medals f'r that, y' know..."

Terrence looks at him over his spectacles. "Oh, I know sah." A small sigh escapes him. "My father had his fair share of them for exactly that reason, wot."

Varus harrumps. He knew the elder Cadwallader back in the day. The two had never particularly got along with each other. "Ach, well... We all 'ad it in our 'eads that we were unbeatable, wot. An' we fought some wicked, wicked beasts. Pirates, slavahs... Vermin all. But yahr fathah was, indeed, among th' most driven..."

"You could say that again!" With a snort, Terrence shakes his head. "Daresay that's a nice way of putting it, wot. Eithah way I'd never argue he or you, sah, don't deserve them. Going up against Pirates and slavahs and all the rest like you - and him - did certainly is worthy of it all."

Varus waves a paw. "Eh, we did wot we 'ad to. As we 'ave for countless generations, all the way back t' the days o' Lord Brocktree, our foundah..."

Terrence gazes at his empty glass, holding it up. "I suppose that's true, isn't it? And - I'm hesitant to say hopefully here - it'll continue to be that way, wot. Hopefully meaning of course the Patrol continues doing what it does to the best of its abilities, not that the slavahs and their ilk keep at it."

Varus chuckles drily. "Aye, I 'ope yahr right, Lad. I 'ope yahr right. The mountain's been through rough times before, it'll go through roughah times in th' future. We just need t' be ready, wot."

"Yes, yes we do." Terrence says as he sets down the glass. "And I suppose the first ordah of business for that'll be to get poor Dominik back, wot."

Varus grimaces. "Aye. But I fear 'is problems go far deepah th'n goin' AWOL. I fear it's psychological..."

Leaning back with his paws on the countertop, Terrence sighs again. "Wot, with calling himself 'Erg' and all that?" The sergeant shrugs. "There's very, very little we can do if he remains out there as he is, psychological problems or no. Practically speaking, Sah, even if he's from the north the in winter away from the shore in the marsh could very well be harsh, and even someone as experienced as him might be caught out in the cold - I don't think he has any propah gear with him, if I'm being blunt, wot."

Varus sighs, and shakes his head. "They only went out f'r a bloomin' trainin' exercise, so 'e was definitely not prepared f'r this upcomin' wintah weathah. 'Owevah, if he's not found before the first snow... That's when 'm callin' th' search off..."

A scowl plays across Terrence's face for a brief moment but is soon suppressed with a grim nod. "Understood, sah." He waves the bartender over again, raising his empty cup. "I think I need another round of liquah before the night's done, wot."

Varus holds his own out as well. "Aye, Private. More o' th' good stuff." He leans over and whisper to Terrence, "There's actually much bettah stuff in th' officah's lounge. Us fogies hoard all th' good liquah..."

"Of course you lot do!" Terrence slams back the drink with a chuckle. "If it was to be kept down here it be gone like that!" The sergeant snaps his fingers. "I inherited a few good bottles myself in the past, apparently - have yet to dig them out, though, wot."

Varus glances at the other hare. "Inherited? Wot was th' occasion, if I might ask?"

"Ah." The hare looks down at his feet, shuffling them. "Well, the demise of my father last autumn, for one." Terrence raises paw up. "Before you worry 'bout me I've long dealt with his death, sah. Left me a vintage from the season I was born with instructions to only drink it when I have a leveret of my own." He laughs, dryly. "That's probably the most expensive one, wot."

Varus ahs, and nods. "Sorry t' hear it, Lad. I remembah when mah own Da passed. Quite a long time ago now..."

Terrence requests another drink from the private. "Thank you, majah." As discretely as he can, he looks Varus over as if trying to figure out how old the hare is and to guess exactly how long ago that was. "Still have my mother, wot, but, well, I'm not entirely sure what she's up to these days."

Varus is very definitely approaching his senior years. His fur is going grey around his temples, and he's not nearly as trim in the stomach as he once was. One is left to assume it happened more than a few seasons ago, possibly when Varus' second eldest son, Adrian, was still a leveret... Or possibly even before he was born. "Yahr Mothah 'asn't spoke t' you yet?" HThe Major sounds surprised. "She's been 'ere at the Mountain this whole time. She would've joined mah group o' veterans that rescued you lot from th' toads, but I'm afraid she was unable t' make it..."

"Lets just say our relationship is less than ideal for now, wot, and leave it at that." Terrence has nearly finished the refill by the point, bouncing one leg absentmindedly. "She hasn't gone out of her way to avoid me, at least. Just kept quiet, least 'round me that is."

Varus frowns. "Doesn't aprove, eh?" Inwardly, he sighs. She's pushing her son away the same way he pushed Adrian. Clearly some great cosmic joke of the universe is trying to get the old hare re-evaluate his relationship with his son. He stares down at his empty glass, lost in thought.

Terrence exams his yet again empty glass. "Well, erm, eh, she hasn't approved much of anything I've done since I ran away when I was a leveret, wot."

"Aye, that'd do it," Varus agrees. 'Adrian didn't even do that, you old dunderhead,' he thinks to himself. "You came back, though..."

The glass has a small chip in the rim, Terrence notices, and he seems to find it quite fascinating. "Yes, yes it would." He finally answers, "And I did, I suppose - but that wasn't because of me all that much, wot. Poor brother died in an accident, wot."

Varus nods again. "I'm sure yahr parents didn't blame you, though..."

"I'd hope not, wot!" Terrence says, setting the glass down gently. "Some dumb recruit nailed him with a poorly thrown javelin. I couldn't have been blamed for the poor blighters death - I was at least a month away down south, wot..."

Varus hums, and rubs his chin. "That recruit's name didn't staht with a "Z," did it, by any chance?"

A rather mirthless chuckle escapes Terrence who shakes his head. "No, no, this was seasons before our good Zolomon decided to show up, wot - about five summers back. I nevah did look up the name of the hare who did, but I'd like to believe it really was an accident."

Varus frowns sharply. "I was retired at the time, so I'm afraid I know little of the incident. I'm sure the recruit was drummed out, 'owevah..."

"Well, it doesn't matter much any more, wot." The sergeant rests his elbows on the counter, ears falling back against his neck. "It really has been some time - I was barely a few seasons past being leveret at the time." Terrence looks over at Varus, his shoulders shrugging. "I'm afraid I haven't ever looked into the details myself - not that I want to, of course."

Varus nods grimly. "Good. Don't. An' that's an ordah. I may not be yahr direct superiah, but I am a superiah officah. If you look inta it, an' discovah that recruit was *not* drummed out... That 'e still serves 'ere... That 'e's one o' yahr superiahs, even... You know wot 'm bloody well sayin', Sahgeant..."

Nodding slowly in response, Terrence mutters, "Yes sah." Though he's soon laughing, leaning forward on his elbows and pushing the empty cup forward as if to ask for another drink. "Anyway, my luck might be that'll turn out the one who did that is a good friend of mine, wot, so don't you worry about me seeking vengeance and all that, wot, or looking any furthah into it - I haven't in the past seasons and I'm not about to, sah. I'm not as hothead as some othah hares 'round here, either, or at least I like to think I'm not."

Varus mmms. "Not strictly about revenge, son. Respect, too." He hands his empty glass to the bartender, seemingly through with drink for the night.

"Hmm. I suppose that's true, wot." Terrence eyes drift back to the large armchair were his paper work was left, and, after a deep sigh, the sergeant gets up. "Well, Sah, its been good talking to you, wot, but I have work to finish now. Have a good night, wot!" With a quick salute, he's off to pick up his things and finish them.

Varus nods. "Ach, I need to be gettin' t' bed mahself. Keep up th' good work, Sahgeant..." He makes his way out the door.

Last edited by Ol'random (2019-11-15 11:07:38 AM)

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#1 2019-11-15 10:47:20 AM

Drinking with a Major - LP 11/14/19

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