Locals, Posh Officers and Us.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

OOC: Feel free to enter, I know you wanted to start a thread with me Doodle, you’re more than welcome to enter this or make your own. Just thought I’d try and help.

Conditions: Raining Outside
Time: 1705hrs (7:05pm)

The small town pub was humming with life as barmaids scooted behind the chairs of rowdy patrons throwing their bodies back and forth within a fit of laughing or extravagant talking with the hands. Alcohol seemed to have the same effect on everyone; enough of it and the quietest of old men were unravelling war-time stories and the youngest were strutting their ‘brude’ amongst the local towns woman. In each and every way, it made every soul prosper to life, giving a good kick-start to their engines. However, one person wasn’t so rowdy, boisterous or talkative, his head dipped and his body slumped forwards, the idle playing of his fingers against the bar-top, no, alcohol had another Dior effect with this man…

Liam Brentwood, dressed in his cameo Royal Marine Commando uniform and tight green fitted beret, leaned helplessly and boringly against the bar-top with his elbows prided up between his sides. Half a pint of bitter turning stagnant beneath his nostrils and his head dipped to savour the dying aroma of what was once a fresh brew. The Lieutenant seemed glum. Worryingly so as he was on authorized leave, most of the other scattered soldiers and Officers within the Pub had a whale of a time, kicking up a stir amongst the locals; ironically, Liam wasn’t. His Division had just transformed from a small Assault Unit (30 AU, Royal Commandos) to a fully fledged Royal Marines Commandos , even their berets were now dyed green, rather than red.

Supposedly, Liam should’ve been celebrating. He’d be assigned a whole troop of men beneath his command and word of promotion was alluring within the air for him, being made a Captain. Yet, the man remained quiet and stiffly slouched against the bar-top, the odd Barman or Barmaid shedding a curious stare towards his general direction, the distinct green beret and honourable statue as a Lieutenant Commando seemed to drag on most people’s curiosity. Funny thing was, they never asked whether he killed anyone, but rather, they always seemed to ask - “Are we winning?”. A sure tell tail sign that the Citizens of the Allies were worrying, heck, they wasn’t the ones fighting.

Tossing a shilling or two onto the bar-top with a clang, the Lieutenant pushed his stool backwards lazily and abruptly stood, almost like he’d had enough of the posh ‘Infantry’ Officer’s voices in the corner of the Pub, boasting to how they’d won certain battles - But those were the men who didn’t lift a finger to win, instead, poor little Jimmy and his mates had their necks strung for the job, whilst the posh prideful Officer at the top gained all the glory. No, Liam was nothing like that, he was a rough diamond, a man with a scorned temper alike his mother who worked a bakery. Standing and turning within his spot, not exactly paying much attention to who might’ve been in his way, Liam’s body thumped hard into someone lingering right in front of him, his eyes closing as he felt the warm beverage of someone’s drink splash against his face from the clash.

Stepping back a little and bowing his head to wipe at his eyes, the Lieutenant growled beneath his breath and spat out “Crying out loud! Watch where you’re bloody going!” his face immersed downwards into his shirt as he rubbed his eyes and face, not having a clue who’d just thumped into him - or he just thumped into.

[doodle]

((That was very nice of you to start this! Here I go. Please tell me if I get anything wrong- I'm always learning!))

Helen checked her watch again. Just after seven o'clock. She stifled a yawn and eased up from her slouched position over a table in the back of the pub. She figured her cheek must have an indent from where it had been resting on her hand. After all, she was still on Californian time, hours away from whatever city they were in now, and her body had not caught up yet.

Around her sat a handful of her bandmates, all guys that had accepted the call to come on this crazy adventure. They were on their second or third beers (Helen wasn't sure-- she was sticking to orange juice for now). She normally wouldn't have come along with them to a place like this, instead, she would have been with the rest of the USO group. But she wanted some familiarity with friends who'd known her all her life.

The routine of things had not quite sunk in just yet, even though this was their second stop on the USO tour. Going to the local watering hole and acting like goofs for a few hours was an easy way to relieve the stress.

She tuned out her friends, who were going on and on about some long-winded story they'd picked up from a soldier. Her ears fixed on some war stories being told in the opposite corner.

Half entranced and half amused, Helen raised her glass to her lips, but with one taste she realized her half-glass of orange juice had gone warm. Blech. She smiled a wearly "Be right back" smile at her friends, and started towards the bar.

Little did she know a head-on collision awaited her there. It was brief but sudden, and with her mixed up time-zones, lack of sleep, and thirst, she had little control of her orange juice which went flying over the uniform she now faced.

“Crying out loud! Watch where you’re bloody going!”

"If I wasn't watching I'm sure I would have ended up in Timbuktu by now," Helen bit back, equally annoyed as the Brit, but managing to keep some semblance of formality to her voice. "Listen, I'm sorry about that. Let me get a napkin for you or something."

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

OOC: Anything to learn!? You’ve nailed the post. =) Loved it. Pretty hard when ‘clashing’ with someone doesn’t leave you much room or leeway to write much (pretty stooped for ideas), but I must admit, great post!

Oh, if you need any help with War-Time terms/ranks/events just let me know. Can get confusing for some and I don‘t expect everyone to know what I do. =D

IC:

Stinging! The sensation of warm bitter juice embellished into the corners of his eyes began to burn, his hands scooting up beneath his uniform shirt to push and pride the fabric against his eyelids, wiping the acidic juice away as best as he could. Grumbling beneath his breath, hot breathed and hot tempered into his shirt, the supposed ‘Brute’ of a male he thought he bumped into, soon turned into a soft and quiet toned of voice - compared to the husk and smoker’s breath he sought’ coming his way anytime soon. No, instead, a young woman snapped at him quick wittedly, before apologising and caringly offering to help; a cold shiver ran down Liam’s spine and his immersed head between his palms (beneath the shirt) began to rise slowly, silently and awkwardly looking towards the young woman with his pink rimmed eyes.

Sure, his eyes were stinging a little and the fruity stickiness of orange clung to his skin and uniform, but the young woman he’d so rudely insulted as being blind offered to help and Liam found his mouth gaping open slowly, not quite knowing what to say. “I-I’m sorry, it was my fault” slipped out the Lieutenant who began to feel bad already, which was an amazing sight, as the Hard Headed and Thick-Skulled man never really showed much compassion or apologetic views towards his own men, nor’ anyone else for that matter. Squinting slightly, from the slight stinging and throbbing between his eyelids, he began to bite at his lower lip and offer a weak smile, before saying “No - I’m fine, at least let me get you another drink?” Liam said pleadingly, before giving his eyes another soft wipe.

A few glances in the room were shed their way, but everyone continued on with their own business and the annoying posh voices of the Officer’s in the corner only became all the more louder. Soothing himself from becoming agitated by their miss-fit laughs, the Lieutenant Commando moistened his throat with a swallow and looked to the young woman again, muttering out, half between his shirt and hand from wiping his face “Timbuktu sounds like a better place to be, than Europe at the moment”[/I], he said half speaking to himself rather than the woman, more of a incoherent mutter than anything.

Eventually, dropping his hands out from under his uniform shirt and giving the woman a little more paid attention, he gave yet another weak smile and gestured his hand towards the bar, saying “Come on, let me get you that drink”, he wasn’t naturally a rude person towards woman, nor’ was he horrible in any sense, but conserving a persona as a hardened Lieutenant Commando was something he tried to achieve. Subordinates, Men beneath his command, would want nothing more than a strong and hardened leader to pull them along; perhaps he’d spent a little too much time in the Military, that he’d forgot himself sometimes.

[doodle]

((Thank you! If I have any questions I will let you know!))

Her flare of annoyance vanished once she saw the red eyes of the man she'd just knocked into. He wasn't actually crying, was he? Or ... oh no, her orange juice had somehow gotten into his eyes!

"It's all right. It was just orange juice-- well, I'm sure you know that by now..." Helen couldn't keep some laughter out of her voice, but she tried to rein it in as she moved closer to the bar so she was standing beside the man she'd just bumped into. "Can I have some water and a napkin?"

The bartender complied. Helen, in turn, offered the two items to the man. If anyone was looking their way, she didn't notice. She was used to the peering eyes by now; had to be used to it, if she wanted to be in the business she was in. "Orange juice'll stain if you don't get it right away. I'm sure you don't want to go around smelling like an orange for the rest of the night." In reality, she was a bit intimidated by his uniform-- he looked rather important-- and Helen wasn't sure if he was intoxicated or simply harried from the world's events that touched everybody's lives.

The voices in the corner suddenly amplified, becoming more boisterous than anything, and she lifted her eyebrows slightly at the noise. Though she could barely hear him, for a second, she thought the man was muttering something about Timbuktu and she hoped it wasn't any curses about her earlier retort.

"I'll have another orange juice, please," Helen said to the bartender after the man offered to get her a replacement drink. While waiting, she turned and smiled embarrassedly at him. "I'm Helen Fletcher. And really sorry for this mess."

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

OOC: Good - it’s a shame about the time differences though, you’re online 7AM my time.

IC:
Chirping a slight laugh at her insinuation that it was only orange juice, Liam grinned to himself. The thoughts of stumbling or bumping into any of his subordinates smelling of orange juice would’ve been more embarrassing, than smelling of booze! Ohh… How they’d never look at him the same again… Neither did he have anyone fuffin’ around him so much. The last time he’d had a pair of hands knitting to his beck-and-call, was mostly likely when he were young, by his own mother! So the novelty of the young woman making such as a fuss, brought home warm feelings.

Quietly, he smiled towards the young woman who was brushing the napkin down his torso and sponging the juice from off his body. “Thank You” he mumbled slightly, as if embarrassed to say the forbidden word, before carrying on to say “Well, I guess it’s not every night a Man smells fruity” - Sure, a lame punt of a joke, but Liam grinned to himself at the thought of it, more trying to enlighten the situation that’d unravelled, than stand awkwardly with the woman; passing the blame around subconsciously to one another.

Twisting his head slightly, the Lieutenant pulled off his green beret that was tightly fastened to his skull, propping it upon the bar-top by his side, shedding a quick glance to the barman who made a fresh glass of orange juice for the young woman. Running a hand through his hair, Liam began to look a little more casual, his hair cascading ever so slightly around his head, the length a tad bit longer than the Army required; During war however, popping to the barbers was the least of their worries. All the men’s hair grew a tad bit longer than specified, but soon enough, the Lieutenant found himself snapping out from what seemed to be a slight thoughtful phase and peering onwards towards the young woman introducing herself.

“Helen…” he reproduced within the caverns of his mind, as if fixing the name with her small perk face. “Lieutenant Brentwood, Liam Brentwood” he announced, as if forgetting himself again by the whole Lieutenant part, a slight smile emerging upon his lips as his head dropped slightly to conceal it. “Pleasure to meet you, Helen” he soon entailed, as if to break the icing a little more, his hand forming out between their bodies for a gentlemanly gesture of a handshake, his eyes lisping over her lips quietly, as if waiting for her to speak, but soon filled the gap. “You don’t sound very English either - Helen?” questioned the Lieutenant, as if he already knew the answer, “Overseas Reporter?” questioned Liam again casually and curiously, his body leaning against the side of the bar-top, propping his elbow up some for leverage.

[doodle]

Helen finished cleaning up the orange juice and set the napkin aside. "Well," she said after a skeptical look at his uniform, "I think it'll be okay, but you should probably get it washed soon." She mentally berated herself for making such a fuss. He probably thinks I'm acting just like a woman-- well, I am one, and a war isn't going to stop that!

It must be the uniform or maybe it was the fancy-looking beret that was slightly intimidating her. Helen was used to joking around with the GIs. But he didn't seem like the type to go nuts if his uniform got a bit dirty, unlike those officers in the corner.

As he took his beret off, though, Helen realized he was just a guy, just like the ones back home. Maybe he appreciated a little cleanliness here and there. She sat down at the bar, and sipped at her new orange juice after thanking the bar-keep.

"Nice to meet you too, Lieutenant," Helen replied after he put a name to his face. She turned to take his outstretched hand and shook warmly. "Overseas reporter?" She added, surprised at his guess. "No, I don't think so. I'm actually with the USO, here to visit our troops overseas-- well, here. You know, we're the song and dance people." She grinned wryly.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

Whilst listening to the young woman, he felt the Barman’s presence linger for a moment, almost awaiting for Lieutenant Brentwood to make another order, whilst he sponged down the bar top’s dry drink stains, awaiting a verdict. Liam shook his head subtly, knowing he’d had a few already, the effects of feeling sleepy had already began to set in, he’d hate to go further down that road with another drink, particularly in front of the young woman.

Giving a slight nod towards her verdict on needing to get the clothes washed soon, Liam sighed beneath his breath slightly, hating the whole ‘washing’ routine; He wasn’t a male chauvinist alike the Officer’s in the corner, chuckling with their high pitch tongues, but alike all men, they hates chores. Eventually, the young woman grasped his hand and returned the generous gesture of making their acquaintance, before revealing she was actually a USO Volunteer - How Brave… wondered Liam quietly, giving Helen a slight admiring look to nod again.

Shuffling upon his feet a little, the Lieutenant licked his drying lips and looked to the young woman casually again, still reframing a curious look. “That’s certainly an aspiring thing to do, hard one too” he said a little awkwardly towards the end, giving her a slight look that sympathised for her efforts. Liam knew himself most of the men were hard to please, songs and dancing didn’t always bring a spark to their bellies, strip tees and the playful shows, however did. Glancing down slightly, he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her, perhaps the men did like their shows? He’d never personally seen her on stage, but the last rowdy bunch of stage performers that passed through, ended up fighting with the audience.

Again, the Officers in the corner began to cause a slight controversy, a couple of the younger Officers arising from their seats with a stagger and stumble, as they laughingly and ignorantly made their way to the bar. Pushing up behind Helen, one of the young Officers leant against the Bar Top and began to flag his hand out impatiently towards the busy barman at the opposite end, phasing a dry and arrogant sigh heavily down the back of Helen’s neck, spurting out drunkenly “C’mon, Haven’t got all night to get served!”, his accomplice (other Officer) breaking wind of a laugh, a fake and horrible chuckle that only boosted his friend’s Ego.

As the man stood behind Helen awkwardly, leaning against her somewhat, he glanced towards Liam and quietly towards the young woman by his side, his eyes soon falling over her shoulder to stare at her chest. “Looking for a gentleman tonight love?” blurted out the posh snobby looking man behind her, his hand grabbing at her shoulder slightly, trying to draw her attention if he hadn’t already…

OOC: Thought I’d spice it up…

[doodle]

((Bah, sorry it took me so long to reply! Trying to unpack in my new place ))

"A hard thing to do?" Helen echoed Liam's words and grinned. "I hate to sound corny, but we're not the ones doing all the work here. I'm afraid you guys got the brunt of the job."

She had finished her orange juice, and set the glass aside. "But , I think I'm a lot happier here doing something rather than sitting back home. Even if it is just being a messenger in the long run. You don't know how many guys have asked me to call their parents or girls when I get back to the States..." She laughed, but it somehow sobered her-- even though she hadn't touched a drop of alcohol all night.

But any more thoughts about that subject were cut off by the rude interruption of those loud obnoxious officers who now had, as if by magic, appeared right behind her -- stench and all. She wrinkled her nose, and nearly jumped out of her seat as one of them clawed at her shoulder. Helen whirled around and glared at the one who still needed to bring his eyes up to meet her face.

“Looking for a gentleman tonight love?”

"If I was, you certainly wouldn't be on the list, even if you weren't three sheets to the wind," Helen shot back , a general annoyance at them that had been brewing now coming to a head.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened, but tonight the drunk officers seemed particularly difficult to push aside. She hoped the Lieutenant didn't mind if she added him to the mix as some leverage.

"Besides, you'd have to bring it up with my friend first," she added, glancing at Liam and hoping he was on the same page. She hoped that her trust in him hadn't been misplaced....

[Rhys Bevan]

All eyes were on the three in the middle of the bar. The posh-looking bloke had a look of unhidable fury on his well-shaven face, his cheeks burning a fierce shade of red. Rhys could only barely refrain from laughing; he looked distinctly like a tomato. He let out a small chuckle and it was to be his undoing. The man turned towards Rhys and glared at him through bespectabled eyes.

"Excuse me?" he spat.

"Nothing..." stuttered Rhys, who had no intention of being enrolled in a common brawl even if it was against someone as weak-looking as he.

"You said something," growled the man, adopting a schoolmaster's tone. "And I wish to know what it was you said,"

"I just laughed," stammered Rhys nervously.

"You find me amusing?"

"No, sir," answered Rhys sheepishly, his eyes glued to his feet. He wasn't sure where the "sir" had come from but he decided that the more respect he showed the less chance he would get of being punched in the face.

"Leave him alone," called a voice from the other side of the pub, a tall man with a mane of shaggy black hair.

The posh man's face turned puce once more and without a second's thought he elbowed the speaker in the face, breaking his nose immediately. The man crashed to the floor in pain as his victor smirked triumphantly.

Rhys put his beer down on the table with a bang. He had gone too far.

[cymraeg123]

Rhodri decided to get in between this brawl and try and stop it.

'Oi. Break it up now,' I shouted as the whole place went quiet.

'Why should I?' said the man as he squared up to me and spat on my badge.

'Look. Why do you want to start some trouble between a sergeant and a corporal. Both of us are probably stronger than you. We are also armed.' I said as I put my hand on my knife's hilt.

The man sat down after giving Rhys and Rhodri a shove. He then finished his drink and exited the pub. Rhodri ran over to the man who had been elbowed to the floor.

'Are you OK?' I asked him.

'Yeah I'm fine,' he answered.

Rhodri straightened his green beret that was part of his Royal Marine Commando Uniform and walked over to the bar and ordered 3 drinks. One for him, one for Rhys and one for the injured man.

[Rhys Bevan]

Rhys grinned as the young corporal banged a large glass of cold beer in front of him. He looked like a reasonably solid fellow; at any case, he looked able to handle himself in a combat situation twenty times over. He glanced over to the injured man who had a worryingly black eye and a fat lip.

"Are you OK?" he asked worriedly.

The stranger nodded firmly.

"I'm fine," he said, although he certainly didn't look it. "That man was trouble. Someone had to do something,"

Rhys felt ashamed. He was supposed to be the soldier and yet it was this random civilian who had stopped him from getting a beating.

"Look, I'm really sorry..." murmured Rhys. "It wasn't your fight...I should have stuck up for myself,"

The man held up a hand to silence him.

"I told you I'm fine. Now why don't you go and enjoy your drink, eh?"

With that, the man rose to his feet and, without looking back, swung open the creaky front door and swept out of the pub.

It wasn't very often that Rhys got some free time for himself. Whether it was superior commanders who seemed to get their laughs by making new recruits run around a wet field twenty times a day or the German army itself, Rhys always had some sort of unsavoury job to do. He had actually considered resigning from his post but realised he could never do that. His country needed him.

Rhys downed the final drop from his glass and, all eyes on him, swept out of the pub into the depths of the night.

[cymraeg123]

Rhodri sat down facing the man and making small-talk with him for ten maybe fifteen minutes. After about that time and after the man who's name turned out to be John had left another brawl seemed to be starting. One man had accidentally poured some beer down another drunkard and the wet man wasn't particularly happy.

Rhodri stood up and watched as the wet man grabbed the other man's arm and twisted it behind his back. The other man kicked his assilant in the stomach and pushed him against a wall. The man took a few swings and managed to give the man a bloody nose.

'Hey break it up!' Rhodri shouted. The room fell silent.

'You gonna make me?' the man asked.

The man's friend who was sitting behind me stood up and said, 'No one picks on my little brother. Especially army men,' he looked at Rhodri's badge,'Corporal Williams.'

His younger brother grabbed Rhodri and punched him in the stomach. Private Pryderi Davies stood up in Rhodri's defense and pushed one man back to his seat as Rhodri dealt with the other one. By now the wet drunkard was on the floor suffering from a coughing fit.

Rhodri had managed to establish that he was the stronger of the two men and the other man went and sat back dow to finish his drink. Rhodri exited the pub and began walking back to the barracks.

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation Post:[/b]

This thread died a long time ago and for that reason, Rhys & Rhrodri haven't been issued a great deal; Always check the dates on the thread/s you enter.

The following CP has been issued;

Lt. Brentwood: 11CP

Helen Fletcher: 10CP

SGT. Bevan: 5CP

CORP. Williams: 5CP

~Danny[/color]