A Bittersweet Reunion
A Bittersweet Reunion
~*~A Tale of the [[Long_Patrol%25E2%2580%259D|Long Patrol]]~*~
Starring:
- Sidney, a Long Patrol Lieutenant
- Collin, a Long Patrol fighter
- Ava, a Long Patrol healer
- Rahier, a Long Patrol Colonel
- Dagda, a Long Patrol healer
- Torsten, a Long Patrol recruit
- Alpine, a Long Patrol fighter
Logger's Note: This story is a part of a continuing plotline. For the previous installment, click here. For the first, click here.
Collinsel Port
Two ships left, weeks ago. Three have returned. It's early evening when the sloop reaches Halyard's dock, with the other two not far behind - the fishing boat, and a shallow-hulled vessel. The latter bears a striking similarity to the slaver ship that snatched Tyree and Corbeau, but any name on the side has been scoured away, and it's unmistakably crewed by hares. At the dock, a few minutes are spent tying down the sloop's sail and securing the mooring lines, the latter which Sidney does himself. He goes through the motions with quiet focus, then signals for the others to disembark. Standing aside, at the very end of the dock, he lets them filter past, eyes turned out toward the dark waters and hands in his pockets.
Compared to the trip there, the trip home felt remarkably quick. It's funny how that happens. Collin is very ready to be off the ships, though, presently on the deck of one of the other two vessels directing the freed slaves off onto the dock. The rabbit kid they rescued is riding piggy-back on the big guy, having grown rather attached much to the buck's chagrin. "We'll have you taken t'Sala in just a bit here, folks. Off we go. C'mon, now." Reading between the lines? Get /off/! He is sending frequent glances towards the village, eager to be away.
Heading off the ship and on to the docks is Ava. She has a hunch to her shoulders with her eyes casted downwards. There is no happy smile upon this face. With her duffle bag thrown over her shoulder, she hops off the last step and gives a quick glance to her proto-patrol for a moment before she starts to trudge onwards behind Collin.
Ah! But they needn't do all the rest of the work on their own. They've gotta be road-weary, after all. Or is it sea-weary? There's a group of hares coming onto the docks, other patrollers, a group from the mountain. Their approach must have been spotted and their arrival prepared for. Rah leads at the front, approaching the moored ships at his slow pace. There's enough of them that it'd be hard to find barely any room to slink past.
The ships have arrived from afar. Dagda is in the smallest of the three, the fishing boat piloted (still) by his father, this time accompanied by a handful of rescued slaves. As they pull up by the jetty, he moves to hop up out and tie it off before remembering his bum shoulder. "Lad!" He calls to one of the refugees, then points up on the dock. "Tie us off, an' let's disembahk, wot." The youngster eagerly makes the jump and pulls the rope in close, sliding a knurled board down off the walkway to make a ramp. "Much obliged." The healer makes his way up, quickly helped by eager paws from the arriving Patrollers when his sling is noticed. "Steady on," comes the protestation, not about to be helped without a good fight.
Torsten doesn't look so much happy as relieved. When he gets off the ship, he takes a deep breath and lets it out all at once. He takes a step toward the town, then stops, looking back over his shoulder to find Sidney staring out into the ocean's distance. "Sah?" The recruit turns and approaches Sidney. "Just wanted tah say, thanks for not tossin' me ovahboard, sah."
When the last of the slaves have disembarked, Collin follows. He passes the rabbit over to one of the oncoming wave of patrollers, with some protestations from the kid, and then disembarks himself. He glances back Ava's way with a nod to the doe, his expression serious, and then continues over towards Sidney and Torsten. He pats the younger buck on the shoulder. "Made it home, kid. Good luck with the folks."
Sidney's lingering, seaward gaze turns over and down to Torsten, as the recruit approaches him at the end of the dock. For a moment he's distracted, sighting the small group of hares that have gathered to meet them on the shore. With a small smile, the Lieutenant reaches to grip Torsten's shoulder and give it a squeeze. "'course. You've been a real asset." His hand comes away, rising to salute the other buck. "'m sure I'll be seeing you around... Private Torsten."
Giving him a nod in return, Ava shifts her jaw to one side thoughtfully, then glances over to give a brief smile to the newly minted private. Reaching up to rub her knuckles along her tired eyes, she gives a quick salute to Sidney.
Rahier views the ships, and the tired-looking hares moving away from them. He narrows his eyes, analytically, and then waves the hares behind him onwards. They move their way on in, to contribute, to offer blankets and to help secure and unload the ships. To give a hand to the weary party. Sidney, he spots, and makes his way over.
Torsten smiles up at Collin. "Thanks, Col. You helped me /so/ much." The recruit returns the shoulder pat with one of his own -- well, more an upper arm pat, given the size difference between the two of them. And then he turns to Sidney as he speak -- oh, a shoulder grab. His shoulders are getting all the attention. And with the way the lieutenant addresses him, his eyes widen, and his jaw lowers half-open. "Sah, I..." He pauses here, then breaks his hesitation to return the salute. "Thank you. I'll do the patrol proud, sah." His paw hovering around his brow, he tries to stand straight, but it's clear the last several days have taken their toll on the young buck.
"No doubt," Sidney replies, with a weary but encouraging smile for Torsten, then nods toward the rest of the departing hares. "Dismissed." He turns a glance to Collin, briefly, and then forward, as Rahier separates from the other hares and approaches him along the dock. Sid's jaw tightens, and he takes a subtle breath. Here goes. He steps forward to meet the older buck, standing erect and snapping a sharp salute. "Colonel Rahier, sir."
Borne along by the swarm of attendees, Dagda struggles through the press to get towards the village itself. "Hannah's wintah brew. Hannah's wintah brew." It's a soft chant, almost sing-song in quality. "Just need a sip." How could no one have brought them booze?
Likely there is more than a little booze among the hares who've arrived to help out. It's getting cold out, after all! But Rah successfully makes his way to Sidney, and returns the salute. After dropping his hand, his eyes travel to the ships, and the hares and slaves climbing out of them, and then back to Sidney. "I take it y'don't have good news."
Aw, man. Collin's muzzle twists in a grin of surprise at Tory's promotion, and he lifts his paw in a salute to his new peer in the rank of the unwashed masses. But then he sees the way the kid's struggling, and he leans over. "I think you c'n 'at ease' now, kid."
Giving a pause at the sight of the Colonel, Ava gives him a proper salute, then puts her duffle bag down next to her feet. Straightening up, she slips her paws into her front pockets.
Alpine was off delivering his own ward, a young female shrew, to some of the greeting party hares. The large buck cranes his neck, scanning the crowd as he pushes through. "Hey," he grunts at Collin from behind, knocking a soft knuckle into the other buck. "We're home. One piece, too." He lets his eyes drop to Torsten and follows the promotion up with a smile. "Good deal," he decided as he starts to walk. "I need a chair. A /real/ chair. And a beer." It seems Dagda is onto something there.
Sidney holds the salute, hand to his brow, until Rahier returns it. His arm drops, and he responds to the guess with the smallest of nods. "I think we should speak privately, sir." A pointed glance, with a slight turn of his muzzle, is directed down the beach - away from the dock, as it's still busy with those who have disembarked.
When he's dismissed, Torsten stands there, just totally unsure what to do now. Collin jolts him out of his daze, and he lowers his saluting paw, giving the fighter a sort of melancholy grin as he does. "Gonna go find my pater and uncle. See you 'round, Collin." He hears Rahier's assertion to the lieutenant as he's leaving, and he dips his head for a moment, not envying the officer at all as he walks away. He's got family to hug. As he heads towards Halyard, he gives a stop when he crosses Ava. "Excuse me, Corporal? Thank you for your tips with my cutlass. Probably saved my scut, wot."
Yeah, Dagda definitely is. "'Ey. I'll join you in a bit, Alp. I just gotta do somethin' first." /He's/ got someone to hug, too! Just lovable old Collin. He glances around once more, and during the lull he takes advantage, turning and disappearing towards town.
Rahier returns the salute to the healer. "Welcome back, Ava," he says, his voice tinged with a kind of resigned appreciation. For he's heard Sidney's request to speak privately, and gestures to allow the lieutenant to lead. "Of course," is his reply to the buck, and he follows.
"No problem, Private. I teach the archery classes if you are every interested in trying out the bow. We can continue with the sword as well anytime. I will make myself available to you." Ava says with a nod of her head. "I'm proud of you, kid. You did great out there, really proved yourself. You have a great career ahead of you. Stay safe." Sliding a hand out of her pocket, she reaches around to give him a half hug, then steps back to offer a quick smile to him. To Rahier, she says "Thank you, sir." She rasps out in a soft voice to him.
With a simple nod, Sidney moves wordlessly past Rahier. There's a certain stiffness to his gait. He keeps his eyes straight ahead, striding along the dock and off, then turns to move down the beach and well away from anyone else.
Aw. Alpine has no one to hug. Save a beer mug. He glances around with his good eye, ears swiveling as Dagda hustles off to see family or what have you. The buck's half burnt mustache twitches and he heaves his shoulders in a shrug. Thems the breaks, he supposes as he skirts around a group finding their lost family member amongst the freed slaves. The large guy smiles at them and keeps moving. Taaavern.
Dagda's dad has been on the entire flipping trip; familial hugs are the last thing on his mind. The buck's headed straight for the tavern as well, and has just cleared the end of the dock, protectively sheltering his bad arm. Alpine catches up and the healer all but latches onto the bigger hare. "Alp, excellent. Let's get some /drink,/ wot."
"Thanks, Corporal," Torsten repeats his gratitude, saluting her. "I'll see about that archery. I've probably got a /lot/ of training to catch up with, like, every other private." He scratches the back of his head. "I'll see you," he bids in farewell, walking off the docks and toward the town -- and he stops. Then basically sprints toward a grizzled-looking hare, jumping and practically tackling him with a happy shout. If he were fully groan, the older one might have been floored. But, he clings to him, like he's not gonna let go.
Alpine glances over as he spies Dagda and is leaned on. The fighter wraps a steadying arm around Dagda, grinning over and slightly down. "There you are. You bet, mate. Drinks on me, eh?" He squeeze the other buck very gently and lens forward to do most of the shuffling through the crowd for Dagda. "Drink our weight in beer, eh?" His poky, burnt mustache bristle as he sighs out a relieved laugh. Home.
Releasing a bit of tired air, Dag leans against Alpine as they walk. If he were to groan fully, the larger one might have been floored. But, they keep walking nonetheless. "Y've 'ad Hannah's wintah brew, right, Alp? Fabulous stuff. Don't see 'ow y' could live near Halyahd f' so long an' /not/ 'ave 'ad it."
As she watches the private head off to snag who she presumes is his father in a hug, Ava notices Dagda and Alpine pairing off as they head onwards for a night of drinking. Picking up her duffle bag again, she gives a quick glance about the dock, then starts off with a soft noise under her breath. That smile she had for the Private melts away, back into a stoic, stony facade as she marches on.
Alpine keeps his hold on Dagda and rounds his eye down on him. "Oh, aye. But I think my memory needs a bit of jogging, hm? And food. /You/ can buy the food, how does that sound?" Alpine licks his lips and looks upwards as they press through the rest of the crowd towards the beloved tavern and the equally cherished homebrews that linger there.
"Sounds good t' me," Dagda agrees, knowing full well what sort of order Alpine is likely to place. It's all good; sergeant's pay.
The Tavern
The door bangs open enthusiastically despite the hour (whatever hour it is) and Dagda and Alpine come crashing in; or, more accurately, Alp drags Dagda in while Dag insists he's never been better. "Ah, here we are," the healer remarks matter-of-factly as they enter, pointing towards the bar with his nose, the only thing he can really gesture with right now. Maybe the ears will be better; he nods his head forward vigorously. "Th' bah!"
Darklett's in the middle of pouring a glass of brandy when the door slings open as violently as it does. He almost overpours it, and places it down in front of the customer. He wants to go out from behind the bar to greet the returning crew, he really does want to, but... He refuses! Because they'll be making their way to him eventually. Can't look too eager.
"No, mate. Over here," Alpine insists and approaches the stuffed chairs near the fire. It takes a wild one-eyed stare to get the beasts that linger there to suddenly realize the time and need to get going. That's fine, they were loitering after their long ago last beer anyways. With a pleased little snuff Alpine all but carries Dagda over and sets him down in the largest and comfiest chair. "There we go. Now!" Al looks up and motions at the server, which happens to be Darklett to which the buck immediately colors and sinks with a small 'heh'. They can wait, Sah! Alpine backs up into his own seat nearby. "Feel okay?" he asks seriously of the other patrol hare with him.
"No, th' bah, th' bah, th'... bah." Dagda allows himself to be led along to the chair despite his protestations, realizing after he takes his seat /who/ is behind the bar. Oh, his old boss. That's... odd. The question, someone asked a question. "Uh, yeh. I feel fine, really. It's jus', y'know. Awkwahd t' move with." Referring of course to the sling and the bandages still wrapped around the cap of his shoulder, albeit less thickly than in the days past.
Darklett gets /motioned/ at. That's unfortunately not a new thing for him anymore, yet he still can't help but laugh every time it's a patroller that's responsible for it. He is glad for the motion at any rate, stepping over to Alpine and Dagda. "Welcome back! It's /great/ to see you two. Specially you," the ex-Colonel Darklett says, with a near-nudge to what looks like an injured arm. He stops just short. "Ooh, that... Looks rough. Well. Glad to see you, anyway." How to broach the subject? "Drinks're on me for all safe returning patrol hares."
Alpine smiles softly at the other patroller. "Folks'll come to us, honest," he promises. He scoots down into his chair, stretching a leg out to snag a padded stool with his boot and drag it so Dagda has a nice foot perch. His ear flips to Darklett and he awkwardly smiles. "Ah, thanks, Sah. Sorry to see hasty. Been on quite a journey, you know." The offer of free drinks lifts what is left of his travel weariness and he claps a paw to the arm of his chair. "Brill, Sah! Two winter ales, if you please."
Dagda just wanted to be close to the /drinks,/ Alpine. Darklett gets a weary salute with the paw that still moves freely, and a bit of a smile. "Evenin', sah. Any chance'a y' treatin' us t' food as well?" Otherwise the healer's on the hook for whatever the bigger buck eats. The elephant in the room remains unaddressed.
Aha, well. Here comes Collin. He shoulders into the tavern, scans the room briefly, and grunts. Well, then! With a slightly furrowed brow, he spots his comrades in arms and heads over to their seating arrangement, flopping down into a chair. It's so nice when things aren't swaying under your feet. "Food?" he queries, with a perked brow. "Not hardtack? /Real/ food?"
"Two winters," Darklett states to himself. "Food, yeah, I can get you food-" Then, yet another big hare in Collin arrives and demands it. "... Sure!" Ugh, worst business buck ever. "First round of food's on me, but I got the drinks," he informs Collin as he sits down. Look how he's not asking any questions about where everyone else is! "Three winters," he murmurs to himself, and then steps back and away, towards the bar.
Alpine is watching his figure, honestly! Besides, beer is wheat. Beer is a /food/. Alpine squeaks happily as Collin appears. "By the Badger Lord's scut, Col'! Where've you been?" He immediately props his feet right into Collin's lap. Some soot falls from the tread and into Collin's lap. Whoops. He cranes his neck and looks up to Darklett with /pleading/ eyes. "Hope the kitchen is ready, Sah." Heh.
"Great seasons, what have I done," Dagda breathes to himself, suddenly remembering the Prickly Hog. "Thank y' kindly, sah," he calls after Darklett, still a little weirded out by being waited on by one of his role models and former commanding officer. "Col! Nice of y' t' join us, lad. You, uh. Y' see anyone special yet?" 'That vixen' is politely omitted.
Cassiopeia is on shift for another few hours, mostly serving tables and collecting empty plates and cups, while the bartending is left to Darklett. Emerging from the kitchen with a circular tray balanced on one arm, cluttered with several bowls of stew, she pauses to glance over the newly arrived hares. A glance to her boss quickly confirms that these are from the returned mission, and she angles her ears up to catch their conversation while maneuvering across the tavern, toward the booth table whose food she carries. "Enjoy, gents!" With the tray tucked under her arm, Cass turns to head now toward Darklett, slipping up next to him as he goes to fetch those ales and offering a bright smile. "Shall I fetch some eats for your friends, sirrah?"
Oh, geeze. Collin's grin is positively wolfish. Because he is going to eat all of your foods, Darklett. He tips a salute to the retired officer, his paws lifting up off the arms of the chair when Alpine's feet settle in his lap. He laughs, and settles those paws atop said sooty boots with a tolerant shake of his head. "I was - ah." And then he glances Dagda's way. "Lookin' for Andrii." He shakes his head. "Didn't find 'er." Small frown.
"Hey, Cass," Darklett beckons her his way for when she's done distributing the food. He's behind the bar by the time she makes her way over to him, filling up the second ale. "Yes, yes please. Something hearty. Stew, and some of those onion dumplings, and bread for them all. I've got the first stews covered -- I say first because there will be more -- as well as their drinks for the night," he brings Cassiopeia up to date. "...I may have to start renting out kitchen space to recoup the costs."
Alpine leans back, eagerly watching for those drinks to come back. He glances to Dagda, making damn sure that arm isn't being too much of a bother. "Seriously. M'gonna volunteer for library duty after this. A nice, warm, vermin-free library." He sucks in a breath of air and lulls his head back onto the chair and hums happily. "How 'bout you too? Going to run away with your ladies and try to forget the past few weeks?" He asks this mostly of Collin, since he doesn't know if Dagda has a lady and he's too tired to ponder on this for now.
Dagda does in fact have a lady, and he'll probably be hearing from her for not going to the Mountain first. "Ordinary infirm duty sounds flippin' /perf,/" he announces, in accord with Alpine's sentiment. Said arm is hanging in there, literally. Luckily, it's his non-dominant arm and he can still eat without looking a fool when the soup comes.
Ash scuttles in, crouched like a spy, bouncy and twitchy looking as ever. His ears are like a young fox's, constantly in motion, searching, finding, moving on. He peers around the tavern, zeroing in on the returning 'heroes' who went on the slaver-hunting trip. He then turns /directly/ towards them, and like a schoolboy who has decided to sit at the cool kids' table, he walks over, grabs a chair, pulls it out, sits down, and scoots back in without saying a single word. He glances at Alpine first, then Collin, then Dagda, all in quick, precise movements. He drums his fingers on the table, and takes a deep breath. "Hi. I'm Ash. I'll be sitting at your table this evening."
"I guess. If I c'n find 'er," Collin grumbles. "With those eahs, I'd've expected 'er to heah the boats comin' yestahday." Collin snorts, shaking his head. "What? You guys're ready t'settle in? I'm ready for anothah mission. Let's just keep 'em comin'," he jokes.
Darklett's returning shortly enough with those ales, his fingers wrapped around the handles of three mugs, two in one paw and one in the other. "Three winter ales. You should be getting some stew pretty soon..." He notices Ash sitting there, now. "Hey. Can I get you something?" Hm. Preeeetty sure he wasn't on the mission. Sorry, no free dinner tonight. He sets the mugs down for the three returning hares to take. "Cass'll be around with your food, and just let her know when you need topped off." He looks across the three older hares present, and he swallows the nagging questions he has about the mission. "Welcome home, boys." Annnnd he goes back behind the bar.
Alpine nudges at Collin with one of his lapped boots and rolls his one eye at the other. "C'mon, pouty-buck. She'll show up. It isn't like a huge cluster of hares is really where she wants to be anyways, eh?" Al travels his eyes over to the newcomer, tilting his head to try and run Ash's face through his rotary of familiar faces. Negative. ""Lo, mate." He motions to the coffee table. "Dunno if we can buy your, uh, juice tonight. We're already being a bother around here, trust me."
"It's th' sling," Dagda explains to Collin, nodding down at it. "M' only option left is t' bleed on y'. Not quite as intimidatin'." Ash plops himself down on a chair next to their circle, where there happens to be a small coffee table in the midst of the plush chairs. "Oy. Are y', now? Welcome t' th' pahty, Ash. Y're on my tab." He glances back over his shoulder, the injured one, as Darklett walks away. "'C'mon Dark! We got hangers-on! C'n y' do anothah bowl? If not, jus' put it on mine." Which will be enormous. This is just a fact.
"On it!" Cass fairly chirps, and flutters back into the kitchen. She emerges a few minutes later, now balancing two trays - one stacked with steaming bowls of stew, the other with fresh bread, dumplings, and a few other snack items. "Here you go, gents," she greets the rough-looking bucks with a cheerful smile, sliding the serving trays onto the nearest table, "plenty of grub for some well-deserving heroes. You be sure to let me know if there's /anything/ you need, yeah?"
"You're gettin' ash all ovah me. How d'you /still/ have ash on you?" Collin grouses at the larger buck. Notably he doesn't shove Alpie's feet off. He just likes to complain. He does, however, lean forward over them when the food comes. "I could /kiss/ you," he tells Cass with a smirk. He snags not one but two bowls of stew, handing one off to Alpie as he does so.
"I am the fire," Alpine says mystically before finally sliding his boots off Collin's lap in order to dig into the food. "Or /me/," he chimes in towards Cass. "This guy has a gal, so don't go listening to him, hm?" Alpine grabs a hunk of bread and starts to sop up the top layer of stew juice. Mm. He glances up to Ash and Dagda, grinning. "Aw, he's much nicer than me," Al comments to the kid.
Dagda, Nice Guy. "Thank y' much, miss," he comments snatching up a bowl and setting it awkwardly in his lap, then gingerly leaning over it to grab at a piece of bread before Alpine and Col have a chance to devour the whole first course between them. "Move fast" is his advice to the kid.
"So you guys went out on that trip, right?" Ash asks excitedly, snatching a dumpling off the tray. "I heard you actually have to kill people out there. I mean, /I/ have, a couple times, but I just thought I'd hear it from the source, you know?" He looks at Alpine, who is very big, and then back at Dagda. "Thanks, but I'm not that hungry, I'm just being more social. Not that I have a /problem/ with being social, because I know basically everyone in the 67th, but I figure there's always room for improvement," he says, holding the dumpling in his paw like it's a decorative wine glass than actual food.
The bread practically falls out of Dagda's mouth. "Th' 67th?"
"Yeah. We went out on that trip," Collin echoes the excitable buck. "An' yeah, we killed folk. Kind of a weird question, though. What if we were like. Traumatized, mate?" Tsk-tsk. His muzzle twitches in a small grin.
"... if you'd like," comes Cass smiling response to Collin, with one eyebrow winged upward. She perches herself on the arm of a chair next to him, glancing around to Alpine and Dagda with a curious grin. Ash's awkward enthusiasm gets a snicker, before she ventures, "Come on, then. I'm /dying/ to hear all about it. You wouldn't /believe/ the kinds of rumors going around while you've been out doing your.. rescuing thing."
"The 67th?" Apline exclaims and sits up, his one eye honing in on Ash. "You know Cypress an' Spruce?" He's chewing on the heel of the bread eagerly with all the other conversation lost to him at the moment. "Big fellas. Bigger than me, even!" He doesn't even notice that Collin, the taken buck, still gets the ladies. Figures!
Dabbing at the soup that's dribbled down his chin, Dagda lets Alpine take this line of questioning up with Ash, content to munch away in silence. It's been far too long. Where is that winter ale? Oh, there it is. My, that's got a nice head on it. Hats off to Cass for that one.
Ash turns to Dagda. He stares /right./ At him. And blinks. Once. "Yes," he says with the kind of quiet, ominous confirmation that accompanies statements like 'you're gonna lose the leg' or 'I ate your last biscuit.' He swings around to Alpine and raises the dumpling in a toast. "It's hard to miss them," he agrees. "Especially when everyone's trying to fit in the tree..." He trails off and angles an ear towards Collin. "Traumatized? Well, I mean, /are/ you? I figured it'd be rude to ask. /I/ wasn't traumatized the first time I heard- was near bleeding- killed someone," he corrects himself several times in a few seconds. He points at Cass and then back at Collin, like 'Yeah, well, spill?'
Collin leans his head back, smirking to the side at Cass. He then jerks his paw towards Alpine in an odd. "Think 'e could use the kiss more'n me, lass. He's very traumatized, see. He's in mournin'." He leans over towards her, so that his muzzle is near her ear. "'E lost 'is mustache t'a fire." And then he sits back, eyeballing Ash. He snorts. "/No/. M'not." Of course he's not.
Alpine slaps the side of his knee. "Hah! Knew those two sorry excuses for fighters were still alive." His nose wrinkles pleasantly at the thought and he leans back to clutch his beer and sip. "They're my older brothers, if you didn't know," he comments to the party at large. Then he's distracted by Collin and raises a paw to hide his burnt, beer foam covered half mustache. "Shut up," Alpine gasps and glares over at Collin.
Ash gingerly touches his upper lip. "Burned /off?/" he says, as if losing a mustache is the same as losing a tail. "But it'll grow back, right? Those grow back, right?" he turns to Collin for confirmation.
Cassiopeia purses her lips slightly. With one foot planted on the floor, the other knee is slightly bent, that foot swinging a little and fluttering the edge of her skirt. She turns a curious, narrow-eyed look over to Alpine, then back to Collin. "I've got a kiss for each of you, maybe. Trade for... elaboration, mm?"
The gasp draws a wide, tooth smile from Collin, a return for the glare. "Shut /up/, he says. 'E /definitely/ needs a kiss. 'Ere, c'mere Alpie, I'll make it all bettah," and he leans over threateningly with kissy face. Kiss the boo-boo, what a good friend!
Alpine visibly reches at Collin and turns his paw away from his mustache to press his massive palm on the buck's face and push him away. "Gross," he grunts and looks apologetically to Cass. "What, m'mustache?" Al repeats to Ash with a laugh. "'Course it does. Just fur, isn't it? It'll take a bloody long time. But hey, at least it'll grow back." Al motions to his eye patch.
With a little burst of laughter at Collin's antics, Cass reaches to catch him by the sleeve at his shoulder. "Heeey, c'mon. You're not really going to withhold the details, are you..?" Look at that sweet face, Collin! "You ought to be basking in the glory. 'sides, what's her name? Colby? My brother will be /thrilled/, you know, he's pretty much smitten. Worried /sick/."
Ash looks only slightly relieved that a mustache is not the same as a limb, or an eye. In fact he seems to be /less/ worried by the eye patch. He glances between the two bucks and Cass, struggling not to add to the pleading din for more gossip. "I'll take a kiss," he blurts out. "I mean, if /they're/ not interested."
"I've kissed people before," Ash adds. /Totally/ has.
D'aww. Alpie /does/ love him. Collin grins at the buck and is settling back even as he's tugged by Cass. He glances up at her face with a grin that fades a bit at the question. He shifts a little, and glances Alpine's way. "... Corbeau," he corrects her.
Alpine's ear twitches at Cass's words and he shares the glance with Collin. He frowns and lifts the beer mug quickly to his lips as he considers down into his lap. "Bit eager," he forces himself to say at Ash. Then he falls into an uncomfortable silence.
Cassiopeia's grin turns a bit crooked with amusement at Ash's offer. "Um. Don'tthinkso? Unless you've done something particularly heroic and.. worthy of recounting..." She reaches to grab one of the dumplings, and takes a little nibble. "Mm! That's right, sorry - so many new names lately. Speaking of..?" The doe looks pointedly between Collin and Alpine, with an earnest smile that loses its enthusiasm as she picks up on some unspoken discomfort. "... I'm Cassiopeia," she inserts, after a moment, into the heavy quiet.
Ash keeps glancing between everyone, quick, focused, cat-like. Then the /mood/ hits him like a moving wall, and he physically recoils, now clutching the dumpling to his chest like he can hide behind it if he tries hard enough. His ears swing downward like oars to the water. "Ooooh..." Maybe he doesn't know /exactly/ what they're talking about, but he's been /around/ conversations like this that tend to go in a certain direction.
"... Well. We were glorious. We earned kisses," Collin assures Cass, if somewhat gruffly. "Alpie 'ere brought 'imself home an adorable little shrew kid? It is /seriously tiny/ next t'him. I mean, you just. You have t'see it yourself. Really." He snorts, softly. Then he shakes his head. "But the two. The Majah, the lass." No names. "They're dead." He pauses, and then his brow furrows, as he leans forward to snag a mug off the table. "And if you want any godsdamned details about that, you c'n go somewhere else for 'em."
Alpine smiles softly at Collin, curling both paws around his mug and glancing around the group. His ears lay back and he closes his eye to sip at his beer. Momentary reflection on the ones that are gone. "We saved a lot of folks," he mentions quietly. "And that's what we have t'concentrate on." Cass is give a nod. "M'Alpine. Or Al."
There's a little flicker of a grin, as Collin's mention of the shrewlet sends Cass' gaze back toward Alpine. Aaand, it's gone. Her muzzle jerks back around, and she blinks twice, as her ears sink low. Then the doe herself sinks sideways, from the arm of her chosen chair to the seat, and she lapses into quiet for a moment. Keenly aware of her faux pas, Cass nibbles for a moment at her lower lip, then straightens back out of the chair. "I... think you fellas could use something a /bit/ stronger than ale..."
Ash spins the dumpling in his paws, looking wilted. "Wwwwwell, there is... /you/ guys made it back, and... people... also did..." He puts the dumpling down, very gently, like it's a dainty bird he's afraid of crushing, and goes quiet.
"That's righ'. Just focus on the positive," Collin agrees? Maaaaybe? He drains about half the ale, but yeah. Something stronger would be nice. He lifts it towards Ash. "Lots did. Rescued 'bout 40? I s'pose. Brought about a dozen back 'ere. 'Cause Halyard's a great place t'pick back up with life, right? Right." He smirks 'round the old tavern. "Ahh, hm. We 'ad a stowaway. Recruit. Ended up takin' 'im along. Tory. Good kid." Pause. "/He's/ who you ought t'kiss." Hoo-boy. He grins at the thought. Head. Explode! All over the place. He laughs, glancing Alpine's way. "Hope 'is Da didn't kill 'im or nothin'. Ya think?" he queries of the big buck.
"M'sure he's fine," Alpine echoes with a sage nod. "That's patrol life, eh? And what better way to prove oneself?" Alpine easily drains his own beer and stands. "Don't fuss yourself, lass. Keep these fellows company. I'll grab the next round." The buck stretches and rolls his neck to crack it before he lumbers for the bar to bring back more drinks!
As she's just about to step toward the bar, Cass' intentions are intercepted by Alpine. "Oh! Alright. Juuust. Something /strong/, right?" The look she sends after him is sweet, fond, before she sinks back into her chair and turns a bit of a fretful glance back to Collin. "A little glorious, at least, see? And all /kinds/ of eventful." One foot scuffs against the floor under her chair. "I reckon you've told me the name of everyone on the mission... 'cept yours."
Ash is... suddenly gone. Like soot on the wind. Wait, no. He's escaping the awkwardness by using his shortness to hide behind people as he slips towards the door.
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