When Judgement Lapses [Patterson]

[Niamh Dunlevy]

OOC - Once again, Lief, this takes place before Niamh comes across you. Also, this is one of the few times, dear IO-goers, that you will see a drunk Niamh. Feel free to point and laugh.

Country: The middle of England, in a small town. The tavern is known as "Uriel's Whiskers".
Current Time: 19:33
Weather Conditions: Raining hard, as it has been all day. It's damp and cold, and just plain miserable.

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"Wheeeeennnnnnnn the cloooouuudssssss are daaaark
Aaaaaand - HIC! - the weat'eeeeerrrr issss daaaaamp...
HIC! I cooooomeeeee thooooo t'e taaaavern...HIC!
Annnnnnnnd drrrrriiiiiinnnnnnnkkkk offff myyyyyy tree baaark..."

It seemed as if Niamh's lapse in judgement would cost her a sane day after the current one. Her face was a bright cherry red, and she looked like someone had just hit in her in the back of the head with a two-by-four. Beside her head was a half-empty glass of strong whisky - it was her fourth glass that night.

But for what reason did the Pavee drown herself in alcohol? She practiced abstinence, simply because alcohol could ruin the mind. Surely there was a reason - perhaps grief, or frustration? It was such an unlikely fate to fall upon Niamh, it was nearly impossible to explain why she would suddenly drink herself senseless.

Well, if one looked down a few seats, they would see a bunch of giggling young Privates, who had just gotten back from the front line. Like many people, they had come to the tavern for a nice, warm drink on a rainy night, and one of them recognized the Pavee from a farrier's in another town. Upon announcing to his friends that she was a "Gypsy", insults began to be directed towards the Pavee, and she had indignantly snapped back at them. After a small war of words, they made a bet - if Niamh could down seven glasses of the place's strongest whisky, and still be able to stand afterwards, they'd leave her alone. If she didn't, then the soldiers would have a well-used scarf, coat, and standard-issue army knife to take home, all of which would come from the young woman.

By the looks of it, however, it seemed as Niamh would lose the bet. She was unable to talk properly, and had descended into spontaneous fits of singing nonsense. Every time she tried to sit up, she would sway back and forth, and her head would hit the countertop again. With almost every fifth breath she made, she hiccuped loudly, and did not react when the soldiers poked her to try and get a rise out of her. If one had to find a new synonym for "wasted" or "mangled", then Niamh would be the perfect replacement.

The next morning would most definitely be a painful one.

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson stepped from the jeep into a nice sized puddle, he would have glared at his driver, but Giles was a good man, and the nice sized puddle seemed to span the entirety of the road, there was no use in trying to avoid it. It wasn't really much of a storm, mainly just heavy amounts of rain, it seemed to come down in buckets, until the wind would gust and send it straight at you almost like enemy fire. He pulled his cap off and rubbed his hair, flinging water out under the awning, slapping his cap against his soaked upper thigh, everyone had to have weighed a good nine extra pounds from the stuff. There was a few laughs coming from inside and Patterson just shook his head, Giles wouldn't enjoy this much either.

As they sat down they waved the waitress away as they were in no mood to drink, all passes had to be canceled, their break in the rear was soon to be over, in less than 48 hours they would be heading out in a large convoy. Patterson knew it was coming, but he wasn't expecting it to be moved up by almost three weeks, this would surely dampen their spirits, even if the sun had been shining. Giles lit a smoke and sat the pack on the small round table, lighting it on the candle in the middle. "You mind?" Patterson asked, Giles just rolled his head and reached for the ash tray, but was stopped by Patterson's grasp. Giles looked up perplexed. "May I have one, is what I meant?" Giles eyes widened, he of all the men had never seen Patterson partake in anything of the sort and he had known him the longest.

Giles could only nod, he couldn't muster the words, he now knew just how stressed this large maneuver had gotten him. But Patterson had a different idea, Giles could worry for the time being if he wanted, but Patterson actually wasn't, he was off to try his hand at a bit of acting after he held the cancer stick over the candle enough to get a cherry on the end and then reached over to grab an empty beer bottle from the trash can next their table. Giles just sat back, he had no clue what was about to happen. Patterson was just sick of all the grab assing that the Privates of his unit tended to put the locals through.

[Niamh Dunlevy]

The Privates near Niamh were trying to stop themselves from laughing out loud. They were snickering, biting their lower lips with the most ridiculous expression on their faces, watching as the poor young woman tried to finish her spirits. Half of the half left just slopped onto the table, spilling onto her arms and partially down her neck, and Niamh's hand shook as she placed the empty glass down. Blinking rapidly, looking ready to pass out at any moment, she banged her fist weakly on the table.

"BAAAAAARRRRRRRKEEP!" the Pavee bellowed, "MORE...HIC! M-MORE BEEEEEEERRRRRRR...HIC!"

"Ma'am, I've think you've had enough. You look ready to faint," the barkeep bluntly, his face laced with worry (or was it?). Niamh grunted, moaning quietly, rubbing the side of her face in a manner that could be called "sloppy".

"I'm...I'm Irrrrrrriiiiiiiiisssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh...I'm...I'm ffffiiiine..."

"Irish or not, you're a mangled git," snapped the barkeep, oblivious to the giggles of the nearby Privates. "I'm cutting you off!"

"Nuuuuuu...!" cried the Pavee, weakly grabbing the barkeep's collar, nearly falling onto the bartop with him in tow. "A b-b-b-b-bet! A bet! I neeeeeeedddddddd...to fin...finnnnn...a bet!"

"Well then, this is one you'll have to lose," the barkeep said pointedly, quickly removing Niamh from his person and letting her land on the counter with a thud. The Privates burst out laughing, slapping their knees as their eyes teared.

"Oh, man! I thought he was going to let her have another go!" cried one Private, banging his fist on the bartop as he let out another bark of laughter. Another nodded, his laughter the loudest of the group's.

"I know! I thought Gypsies were stupid, but I didn't realize they were that stupid!"

"I...AIN'TH A GYYYYYPPPPPSSSSYYYYYYYY!!" the Pavee screeched, nearly flying up onto her feet, but instead clinging onto the counter. She looked ready to fall onto the floor at the slightest breeze. "I'm...I'm...Paaaaaveeeeeeee..."

And somehow, a breeze blew through, and Niamh collapsed onto the floor with a loud, "OW!" The Privates just laughed harder at her misfortune.

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson leaned over to Giles as he watched the woman try to get another drink, luckily the bartender had some whits about him, "Go grab my poncho from my pack." he whispered to his Sergeant. Giles nodded and disappeared through the door. Patterson unbuttoned his uniform a bit, untucked a pant lag, letting it hang over his boot and ran his hand through his hair feircely to rough it up. Let's see how this works. he thoguht as he "stumbled" over to the bar.

He walked by the local lady, if she was still considered that in her state, Hhheeeeyy there ma'a'a'am, hows abouuut a d-dance?" he stammered as he just kept on toward the Privates, knocking what little of her drink was left onto the floor, the glass shattering, he swiveled a bit to give the bar keep a very sincere wink as if to say Don't worry, I'll replace it, I'm actually sober. the bar keep gave a miniscule nod as he knew Patterson, but not for his antics. Guys, guys, guysssss, arrren't you guys out late?' he said as he "accidentaly" dinged his empty bottle off the side of one of the seated lads head, it was a move to be met with retaliation until they noticed who Patterson was. "Thhhhhers a neww guard rossster up in the ba, in the barracksss!" he stated as he pulled chair up clumsily, wrapping his arm around the man seated between him and the drunk woman.

As Giles returned Patterson used his hidden arm to motion toward the lady so Giles would get the picture. Giles walked quickly to her and wrapped the poncho around her, grabbing her arms a bit so as to not have her creating much more of a scene. "Heyyy wait a sec..." Patterson pulled out a belch for authenticity "...aren't yous guys in Brrrrravo Comny?" There was a pause as they felt a guilt trip hit them as they thought they had done something wrong, but they couldn't have known. There were only nods, no words, they seemed to not be handling the fact that their CO was "drunk" no one had ever spoke of such a thing. Patterson glared at his cigarette as if it had done something wrong, "Well ffffuuuuck, I had allll the passeses cancellllld boyss, yous better heads on bick to your ba, to your ba, to the bassse." They didn't know what to do, it seemed most of them had sobered up quite a bit at the sight, but they didn't really know if the news was correct or not. PAtterson "attempted" to hurl the lit cancer away, but the arm of another private was in the way. Patterson figured if he made them uneasy enough this whole thing would end, he had no clue there was a bet involved but it was quite obvious that they were tormenting the woman down the bar.

[Niamh Dunlevy]

The Privates looked nervously at each other. This man was no common officer - he was the Captain Henry F. Patterson, their commanding officer and a force to be reckoned with. He was only made worse for one to pick a fight with when he was wasted, and by the looks of it, the Gypsy had caught his eye. A Private became bold enough to speak up, although his voice wavered as he did so.

"Captain, sir," said he, "that woman down there is a Gypsy, despite what lies she may tell you. She has swindled me and my friends out of our hard-earned money - she said she would pay for our drinks, yet she refuses to give a dime. I have only twenty pounds, and we were going to buy something cheap, but then she shows up and - "

"IIIIIIIII - HIC! Nevaaaaaaaarrrrrrr saaaaaidddd t'aaaat...HIC! Bas...bas...bachamurrrrrrrrrrddddsssssssssss..." the drunk woman slurred, attempting to move towards them. However, a pair of arms had somehow wrapped themselves around her, and she finally noticed the soldier holding her back.

"OI!" the Pavee boomed, fighting weakly against the man's arms. "Lemmmmmmmeeeeeeee...HIC! At 'em...HIC!" The Private speaking rolled his eyes.

"As I was saying, she shows up, and buys the most expensive things on the menu."

"Actually, sirs," piped up the barkeep, "you challenged her to a drinking contest, when I remember her mentioning before that she has a low tolerance for alcohol. I believe, Captain Patterson, they were insulting her ethnicity...? Ah yes, they were. Their poking at her pride started this entire debacle."

"Oh, come on. We would do no such thing!" argued another Private. There nods and grunts of agreement amongst the men, and the nearby Pavee attempted to glare at them, hiccuping loudly. She really hated the fact that sixteen or twenty of them had appeared - they seemed to have joined the bet when Niamh was halfway through her second glass...or...was there eight? No...five? Twenty-four? Seven? One-and-a-half...?

"Staaaaaannnddddddd..HIC! Stillllllllllllll..." Niamh moaned, trying one last time to escape the soldier's grip. "I...I wanna...give 'em...HIC!"

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson tossed his head back and forth in an exaggerative manner, trying to listen to what everyone was saying, it seemed this had gone on long enough and Giles appeared to be able to keep the woman from attempting to kill the lot and she would probably fail horribly. With a quick jerk of his head Patterson sent toward his trusty Sergeant, Giles nodded and tried to help the lady from the bar, it didn't look to be working too well. But it was better then creating more turmoil. Patterson stood and made sure that reality set it, nice and hard like.

-SMASH-

With a quick jolt of his arm Patterson stood and smashed the bottle on the side of the table. "Look, I wouldn't care if the bartender sided with all of you, PASSES ARE CANCELED! Get the fuck out of this bar and I swear on everything holy..." he paused to make sure and look every single man in the eye, if they wouldn't return the favor then he walked up to them, within inches until they had done so, and with everything being quiet now, he simply spoke in a normal tone of voice, instead of the intense screaming, "I swear on everything holy, that the little remainder of your military career here will be hell on earth, you will not sleep, you will not eat, and you will not shit, unless I authorize it. Now every single one of you, every SINGLE one, clean this bar up for the good keep, find this woman a cab AND pay for it and get your sorry asses back on base." he wiped his lips as spit had flown in the ordeal and fixed his hair as best he could with one hand and no mirror and buttoned his uniform back.

"Spread the word, my unit will have respect, or it will not have...PERIOD." he said, remaining in the low tone. His eyes had widened, and his head had tilted ever so slightly back. He was infuriated and he would not stand for such disrespectful acts from his men. "You are all here in representation of the United States of America, you wanna act like a moron, you can go sign up for French citizenship, we can get the paperwork. But if you are to remain under MY command, you will conduct yourselves in a professional manner, and when you are not required to you will at least try to act like a gentleman, your mother may not have taught you manners..." he hoped he struck a chord with that one "...but discipline will do, and men...I have plenty of it to go around." there was no talking, no movement, just awe from the men, they were speechless, they had heard how Patterson had tore his first XO a new on the first day in country, but now it was their turn for a taste.

Patterson turned to approach Giles and the lady and saw the bartender standing there, with a quick swivel he turned to the men once more. "And tip the Bar keep, the happier he is when this is over, the happier I am!" he said without waiting to look around and turned back, this time exchanging a wink with the keep.

"Ma'am, I'm Henry." he said with a smile.

[Niamh Dunlevy]

OOC - And now, for something completely different: I shall poke a poked lion, ridiculous and stupid as it may be. ;D Also, when I use the term "Gypsy", that's when I'm attempting to write it from the Privates' point of view.

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The most pathetic excuse for a yelp escaped Niamh's lips, and she jumped back into the man behind her. Luckily, the man was like a brick wall, so...he didn't waver...did he? She was too wasted to think properly, sadly enough.

Meanwhile, the Privates were backing off slowly - except for one. He was only pretending to be scared, and he was visiting a few buddies in the 3ID. Feeling rather high and mighty thanks to downing half a strong drink of his own, he took a empty beer bottle off the table, and stuffed it into his pocket. In his mind, Patterson couldn't touch him, unless the man wanted to deal with an entire British unit...

Suddenly, Patterson stopped his tirade, and went over to the Gypsy, introducing himself. The young woman stupidly nodded, a goofy grin on her face.

"H-haaaaaaaallllllloooooooooooo..." the woman drawled. "I'm...I'm drunk...yeaaaaah...didn'th...Henry...drunk...uhm...uhhhhh..."

CRASH!

If Henry continued to stay where he was, a beer bottle would smash into the back of his skull, courtesy of the British Private. Said Private would run towards the door, screaming, "RUN AWAAAAAAYYYYY!" with his American comrades in tow. No tipping, no taxi; they had had their fun, and now, they had to run, lest they find themselves hanging from the roof of the 3ID's barracks by their ankles.

Niamh, staring at the door with wide odd-eyes, immediately began to struggle again. She let out a war cry, fuming.

"COME...BACK...HERE...YOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUU!!" screamed she. "I'M...PAVEEEEEEEE...IRRRRRIIIIISSSSHHH...FIGHTH....GETH BACK HERREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!"

But the Privates were already halfway down the road.

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson's attention was caught as Giles head twitched and then all he could see was his own chest, Giles had let go of the lady and planted both of his hands firmly into Patterson's chest, shoving him fiercely backward, but to Patterson's surprise he didn't go far before thudding into another man, and then a table. He shook his head a bit "Sergeant, what the...!" he started to exclaim but stopped as the bottle bounced on the floor in front of him. He had an idea what just happened but wasn't sure, before he could continue Giles spoke up before Patterson could scold him about it.

"Sir! It was for your own good, that man was attempting to assault you!" Patterson brushed himself off and grasped his shoulder as it was tender from impacting so abruptly into the table. Then he turned to see a British soldier groaning a bit and very slowly climbing to his feet. Patterson pointed toward the soldier and looked at Giles. Giles only nodded as he grabbed the local woman once more to keep her from following suit. A few men looked as if they wanted to try and get out while they could but the even seemed to have stopped them enough for the bartender to skirt around them, locking the door. Patterson exchanged a nod with him.

"Get to it!!" Patterson shouted as he knelt down to look the would be assailant in the eye. "I'm only assuming you don't like the military from your actions. We will see how much you want to stay in service." Patterson helped the man to his feet and sat him down, seemed the fall put a nice sized knot on the back of his head. "Bar keep, can you contact the MPs please sir?" Patterson knew that all the local taverns usually kept the MPs number on speed dial for the all to often bar brawl. Patterson never looked at the man, but he could hear the phone being lifted from the receiver.

[Niamh Dunlevy]

As soon as the soldier had released her, Niamh yelped, falling onto the ground once more. The bottle that soared through the air crashed down on the nearby floor, and the Pavee moaned, the noise too loud. Come of think of it, everything was quite loud, and the banging on the floor...it was even louder...

"Shuuuuuuuth uuuuuuup...HIC!" the young woman groaned. She breathed deeply, trying to ward off that woozy feeling one gained when they had too much to drink, and slowly brought her hands in front of her. Weakly pushing herself upwards, she stared at the ground when she was up, confused. Why did she have six hands all of a sudden...?

"Daaaaaaaamn...HIC!" Niamh said quietly. "I'm goin'...insaaaaaaaannnneeee...HIC!"

Before she could ramble on any further, a pair of strong arms and hands hefted her off the floor, and Niamh let out a confused, unintelligble mumble of protest. Her double-vision worsened as her head bobbed, and she let out another loud groan. Maybe it was just her, but it felt like a hangover was setting in...great.

"Oi...lemme...lemme go..." Niamh protested, weakly trying to pull away as her stomach gave a dangerous lurch. "I...I need a...buck...thoi...some'ting...HIC! Buddddaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy...HIC! Sickish...noth gooooooood...HIC! Buddaaaaaay...!"

There was another lurch in her stomach. Dinner had begun to protest, and was bouncing around madly. If only the idiot would let her go...

"Laaaaaaaaaaaaad...LAAAAAAAAAD!" the Pavee cried loudly, her struggling slightly fiercer. "Lemme...lemme laaaaad...I...siccckkkkkkiiiiiiiissssh..."

Her stomach lurched once more, only this time, there was a vile taste in the back of her throat. She needed to get to the restroom - any restroom - fast...

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson sluggishly rolled the man onto his stomach and wrestled his arms into the small of his back. "Giles...the laces!" he squeezed between his teeth as he got the would be assailant into a controllable position. He felt the man under him as he squirmed about, he could tell Giles had his boot stabilized, but was then surprised when the man almost shot out from under him, with a look of surprise Patterson turned to see he was all alone. "What the...GILES!" but it was no use, Giles had rushed the young lady as best he could to the latrine, but from the sounds of it, she was either in the hallway, or had barely made it to the latrine and the door had yet to shut. With a slight cringe Patterson looked to the bartender.

With a quick agreement to whoever he had contacted on the other line, the nice man hurried over to Patterson's aid. "Thank you for...for what you do, many thank you!" He praised with broken english, Patterson just nodded as he pointed to the man's legs. The keep was a pretty burly guy, and once he sat on the back of the moron's calves, well that pretty much put him into submission. With a slight eyebrow and a nod Patterson took a deep breath and wiped his face off, still perch on the man's back.

"Names Henry, ans I apologize if my men have caused you any trouble, I will make sure this is remedied, I assure you." the bar keep just shook his head, he didn't want to be a bother to Patterson, but with a little insisting he gave in finally. "How we doin' Giles?!" Patterson shouted, almost laughing inside at how this had blown up and that he almost hoped Giles had gotten hit with a bit of rotten alcohol projectile vomiting.

[Niamh Dunlevy]

The next few moments were a blur. It was only when she felt herself gagging and saw the ground coming up suddenly did she realize she was on her knees. Vomit was soon everywhere, pooling on the floor in a great smelly puddle, as well as splattering her arms and hands. Niamh coughed, groaning, blinking away the tears that had come.

Then, despite her drunken stupor, she realized that part of the floor was sticking out. Letting out a small, weary, "Huh..." she looked closer, and then noticed that the protruding parts of the floor were actually someone's boots.

...Boots...?

She looked up, and then noticed a soldier standing over her. Niamh looked back down, and a second glance confirmed that the boots were his. That glance also confirmed that she had puked all over his shoes, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she figured that they would smell like puke for a while.

Oops...

"Hehe...soooooooooorrrrrrrryyyyyy..." Niamh slurred, looking back up at the man with a rather stupid grin. However, a loud click caught her attention, as well as a bright flash. Nearly tipping over, she looked to the side, and spotted a few greyish-brownish-peachish blurs standing a few feet metres behind the soldier above her.

One of the other soldiers was holding a camera. "Oh boy!" he said between giggles. "Wait until the 49th Infantry sees this!"

"Oi...!" called out Niamh, beginning to sway from side to side. She felt much better now that dinner was out of her stomach and all over the floor. "Don't...don't take...piiiiicturrrrrresss! It'ssssss ruuuuuuude!"

The soldiers, however, ignored the drunk Pavee, and quickly bolted down the opposite end of the hallway. Their laughter echoed loudly down the corridor.

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OOC - I can edit if this is too ridiculous, but I couldn't help but write down the scene. XD

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson's attention was grabbed by the bright flash that just erupted in the distance. Giles had been trying to help the lady and it seemed that he was indeed caught by "enemy fire" from the little woman. Giles shouted "A camera, are you serious?!...Cap!!" and with that Patterson whipped a nearby chair out and stood up, placing over the man's back and told the bar keep to sit in it, with a slight nod he scurried into the chair, looking about in a perplexed fashion as Patterson took off toward the hallway.

"Back door, two Corporals, the taller one has the camera!" Giles shouted at Patterson's back as he headed for the closing door. "Grab her, let's go!" Patterson yelled over his shoulder as he looked about once outside. There were only two ways out of the back alley and they could still be seen darting down the eastern one. Patterson set out at a full sprint after them. Hopefully if the MPs were able to react quickly enough they would be coming by this way and the camera would under go an...accident of sorts.

The concrete in the alley way was slick and the rain wasn't helping. Patterson had as hard a time keeping his footing as the men he was pursuing did. Giles was less fortunate, and the girl draped over his shoulder wasn't so lucky either. Within two steps and an attempted turn Giles feet slid faster than his body and he hit the ground, tail end first, the lady, well she had an iron skull as her head bounced pretty good on the hard surface and...welll...Patterson couldn't really tell if she was about to cry or if she was about to laugh. With an upset look of failure Patterson watched the two men disappear into the night as he walked back over to the pair of clumsy misfortunates.

[Niamh Dunlevy]

"Oi! I'm noth a...a...a...sack! Sack!" cried Niamh indignantly as she was hefted over Giles's shoulder, bouncing slightly as he went along. Her stomach was churning viciously again...why did he have to move so fast...and the bright light had made spots dance in her eyes. This was most definitely the last time Niamh Mairi Dunlevy was getting drunk. And most likely, the last time she would ever accept a bet.

The cool rain against her face was a sudden surprise, for Niamh had not expected to be suddenly outside. She felt her cheeks swell as a disgusting taste registered on her tongue, and before she knew it, a mouthful of vomit had coursed down Giles's back. Another mouthful came, and Giles seemed to slip, the ground suddenly rushing up towards Niamh. A loud crack came, followed by something wet and warm forming in the centre of Niamh's forehead. She puked again, half-wincing at the pain, half-wincing at the taste.

"Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...noth...pleaaaasaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanth...."

Now that she had smacked her head off the ground, the Pavee's drunkeness seemed to be losing some of its punch. Limbs no longer feeling completely rubbery, a hint of fog lifting from her brain, she weakly looked up to see a pouting man walking over to her and the other soldier. Henry...that was his name correct? Yes...yes it was. For some reason, she felt her cheeks burn, and then realized it was probably because she had puked on his...friend? Friend...yes...she had puked on his friend twiced.

"Ehhehehehe...sorrrrry 'bouth t'at...HIC!" said Niamh, blinking tiredly up at Henry. "I, uhhhhhhhh...I wash shtuuuupid. I looosssssth a beeeeeeeth...was shtupid...sooooooooooorrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyy...."

The woman then hiccuped again, and wondered why the world was spinning slowly.

[MAJ Patterson]

Patterson approached the pair on the ground, Giles had took hold of the back of his uniform jacket and was trying to flap it around to remove the foreign liquid, sneering a bit. The little lady seemed to be apologizing. Patterson had been pretty upset, but after all that had happened, he ran his hands through his wet hair and let out a very small snicker. It was one of those moments that just took you away from it all, one of those moments you will remember when it was all said and done, and you would remember it as vividly, if not more, as those times when you almost bit the bullet so to speak.

With a half smile still on his face he reached out a hand to his Sergeant, helping him to his puke covered feet. Another tiny laugh. He looked a Giles who was rather up[set at the events that unfolded and Giles noticed the smile holding back the laugh. That was too much, the pair shared a boisterous moment before helping the lady to her feet. Walking her down the other side of the bar and hailing a cab. "You two have fun?" Patterson was able to squeeze through his teeth trying not to enjoy the memory to the point of pissing his friend off.

Henry left Giles to make sure the driver knew where to take the woman, and to pay him while he went inside to the bar keep once more. The man was looking rather worried sitting on the chair, the man below starting to become aggressive once more. The Captain noticed the flashing lights reflecting off the back wall of the bar. the MPs were pulling up. This had been one for the books. Patteron placed a hand on the bartender's shoulder and just smiled, the sentiment was not returned and he couldn't be blamed.

[Niamh Dunlevy]

OOC - Sorry if it's not up to par.

Translations

Shut up. Shut up right now. Do not even try to tell me what happened.

No buts.


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Sergeant Donovan Dunlevy as he drove down the muddy road. It had been the eighth time in that week alone that he had been called out; once again, a bar fight had broken out. Only this time, an Allied CO had stopped the fight from going further then a couple of flung beer bottles. There was also a heavily drunk woman that needed a ride...that didn't surprise Donovan. The lass had probably downed one too many beers while trying to "act natural" around a potential husband.

"Let's git dis over wi'..." said Donovan with a sigh, pulling up beside the little pub. A small crowd had gathered around, intrigued by the coppers that were visiting Uriel's Whiskers. Within moments, Donovan's comrades had them shooed off, and were bringing several people out of the bar. One particularly angry Brit seemed to match the description the Whiskers barkeep had given, escorted out of the bar by the barkeep and an American soldier. Donovan waved them over, smirking as he recognized the held-back British soldier.

"Couldn't keep yerself oyt av trouble, nigh cud yer, Mark?" Donovan said cheerily. Mark attempted to take a swing at him, but was held back by the pair of men on either side of him. The Dunlevy merely laughed, and looked at the American.

"T'anks for keepin' de boys down, sir. Captain Patterson, oi presume?"

"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii DONNY!"

Donovan suddenly blinked, startled by the shrill, drunken, disturbingly familiar voice. He quickly looked to the side, and his mouth promptly dropped open when he saw the owner of the voice. All the blood drained from his face, and he looked at the keep, then back at Niamh.

"...Waaat is she doin' 'ere...?" asked Donovan, his voice slightly high-pitched with shock. The barkeep laughed, sounding rather bitter as he did so.

"Crazy woman, I say! She drinks two glasses, and then, she's drunk as a drowned rat! Her pride got in the way, it did; the soldiers who started all of this betted with her in a drinking contest. She wanted to prove that Gypsies could drink just as much as a m - "

"NIAMH MAIRI DUNLEVY![/b]"

The poor barkeep nearly jumped out of his shoes when Donovan yelled. The Pavee Sergeant stormed over to his cousin, promptly grabbing her by the scruff of her shirt and yanking her away from Giles. Niamh shrieked, falling onto the wet ground, thoroughly soaked within seconds.

"Oiiiiiiiiii...whath...whath did ye dooooooooo t'at f...f...feerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...."

"Gruuti swurt," Donovan snapped, dragging his cousin along the mud. He didn't care if she was wet; she had made a complete fool out of herself! How was that girl going to get anywhere in the world if she didn't have a scrap of self-control?! "Gruuti swurt right minʹúrt. Niidʹesh even try to lʹesk my dʹii’l wot 'appened."

"Buttth...buuuuuth...." began Niamh. Donovan only fumed.

"Niidʹesh buts. Yer are in so much trouble whaen oi tell Uncle Fionn waaat yer did."