If she hears, Bell politely doesn't comment. Her grey eyes just flicker over a moment. She frowns, noticing his smile fade. "Well, I'm still… glad you came by, even if I was worried silly for a moment," Smile. She tries to be polite, but it's difficult for Bell to shake the cold, creepy stiff manner that brings vampire legend to life. As if she interacts with people from an arm's length. "Most people do freak out when the enemy gets close. Because you freak out, you might run or fight faster. But the trick of it is doing the right thing in this state," Ah, fight or flight. She just furrows her eyebrows a bit. Bell is standing in the aid station and talking quietly to the others.
Colson nods to Kwatra, "Sounds about right." He says, then looks to McMillan, "No problem, up close and personal is a completely different game than firing from a trench into the NML."
Kwatra doesn't understand McMillan's sentiment, but he nods anyway. He also nods at Colson's words. Repeating "Differant." He's more concerned with Bell's words. "Thank you Doctor." The poor man's struggling for words, "You're not to worry… please."
McMillan looks over at Kwatra and says, "I think Dr. Raine wants you to get her favorite soldier back alive, whatever the mission, Lance Corporal." He turns and winks at her.
O'Shea meanders down the trenchline, eventually reaching the aid station. He enters. "Evenin," the Irishman (teen?) says to those there. Safely in some sort of shelter (and away from the eyes of whomever might be watching from on high), he lights up a cigarette. Holds the pack out to whoever else might want one.
Aw. Geez. Bell's just making it worse. Poor Kwatra. She manages a more sympathetic, understanding glance. Although it's still somewhat off given her usual eerie demeanor. "If you're sure," She will be reassuring then! She even smiles at the turban having man. Then a few blinks at McMillan, "Ah…" She grins a bit at the wink although she's remarkably surprised. "I'm happy to have you all come back." Nod. Intact that is! She looks to O'Shea as he enters. "Allo."
Colson watches McMillan and smirks, shaking his head as he turns to look to O'Shea, nodding, "Evenin, Connor. Johnny behaving himself out there this night?" He asks, then looks to Bell, "Less work for you if we all make it back in one healthy piece."
Kwatra tries a smile in Bell's direction, along with a hearty "We'll all be well." The smile is thin and the words hollow. Thankfully he's saved by a joke and the entrance of yet another Irishman. "I'll make sure no Turks sneak up to you in the night then." He quips taking the cigarette on principal, and peers at the man offering them. "Did I catch your name?" He asks after a moment's thought.
McMillan waves to O'Shea, "Good evening to ya." He unrolls a pack of cigarettes from his sleeve and slides one out of it, preparing to light it.
"Aye, all was quiet in my portion of the line," O'Shea tells Colson. "Heard talk of some of our lads in a dif'rent company plannin a raid. Dunno if it was just rumor or if anything will come from it." He shrugs. To Kwatra, he says, "Me name's Connor O'Shea." Pause, notices the LCpl stripe. "Er, Private O'Shea, Lance Corporal." He looks around. "How is everyone this fine evening? Grand, I hope."
Oh geez. She just keeps making it worse. Bell's eyebrows furrow. She sort of shrinks back and goes quiet, nodding. A faint smile to O'Shea. She keeps wearing a feeble smile and hovering about, a deflated ghost. Too hard to deal with things not drugged or dead… mhmm. She sits near a cot. "I'm well enough, glad to see you all coming by to chat," Yeah, that's nice and safe. Nod. "Not very exciting though, I'm just keeping the night shift."
Colson nods, "Aye, Connor, we're doing well, save for McMillan here who'se in too delicate a shape to frolick with the other children." He smirks, "But we're keeping his place in the team open for when he decides to get up."
McMillan looks over to Colson, "Aye, I'm not much of a frolicker…I'm more of a brooding, kickass, swagger I suppose." A brief chuckle/chortle and he takes a drag from his cigarette.
Kwatra nods and mutters "Connor." He smiles. "Good to meet you. Thanks for the smoke." He pops it straight in the gap that used to be his front teeth without lighting it. "Call me Kwatra, no one ever bothers with the first name." He glances askance at Bell as she shrinks, wincing. He jerks sideways in her direction then stops. "And we're all thankful for that ain't we lads?" As Colson stops he adds. "Or if the good nurses chuck him out."
"Thought to meself, 'Dare I smoke around the wounded, or around the officers,'" O'Shea says to Bell, "Figured it'd be safer to smoke here instead of around Batallion HQ. Don't want an officer noticin me loungin and puttin me to work." To Kwatra, "Nice to meet you, Kwatra. Where are ya from, if you don't mind me askin?" A snort is directed at McMillan. "Don't understand why you want to stay in here, boyo. There's something of a stench in here. Smells like…" a glance at the wounded, drugged, or unconscious, then at Bell, and he trails off.
Woof. Bell's just not winning, is she? One eyebrow lifted, one lowered. She looks like she miiiight just crawl under a rock and die somewhere. "Oh, he can go out and work, he'd just be on restricted duty. Helping on the vickers, things like that," Smilesmile. She's trying at any rate. "It's a nice first name," She offers to poor Kwatra. Then puts a hand over her mouth. Why does she keep making it worse? "Well. He can be here for the evening but if someone comes in who needs it, they have priority. I am sure there's at least one decent spot," She points out. She smiles at O'Shea, chuckling softly. "That's fine," Whaaaaa? Bell is in on the slacker's conspiracy! "I'm sure my brother would lecture me so, but…" She shrugs. "A little break is fine." A wince at the comment of stench. Bell coughs. "Mmm." Right. She just shifts her gaze for a moment. "Perhaps a breeze will come soon. This is about the time for them."
Colson looks to Kwatra, nodding, "Mmm I can imagine the Sisters taking up his cot and dumping McMillan outside the Station." He shrugs, "I can definately imagine them doing such a thing, throwing him out." He chuckles, then looks to O'Shea and smiles to Bell. "A nice, refreshing breeze would be wonderful about now."
Kwatra shrugs. "Quiet little place called the Punjab. Locals' a fair bit friendlier than here." His duty to the still nonexistant Indian tourist board done he comments. "I's all the same in some trenches, and it's fairly safe to smoke in here." he comments, quick to defend the comfiest beds on the line. He sighs O'Shea's taken some flak. Now's the time to shut his mouth and say nothing. Which suprisingly he manages to do.
«Artillery» 7.7cm field gun artillery barrage batters Ocean Beach ineffectually.
"Aye, a breeze would be welcome, it would," O'Shea agrees. "So long as it doesn't bring any rain with it." A glance at McMillan. "Would the Sisters do such a thing? Dump a man out fer lollygaggin?"
«Artillery» You hear artillery pounding Ocean Beach (1 6).
«Game» Bell changes her style to TakeCover!
«Game» Kwatra changes his style to TakeCover!
«Game» O'Shea changes his style to TakeCover!
«Game» McMillan changes his style to TakeCover!
McMillan jumps up and pulls Bell down…again.
«Artillery» 7.7cm field gun artillery barrage batters Ocean Beach ineffectually.
«Artillery» You hear artillery pounding Ocean Beach (1 6).
Colson looks up as the Arty comes in, looking about as people start dropping and he drops, crawling to the door of the station, looking out.
«Game» Colson changes his style to TakeCover!
Kwatra falls flat on his face, leaping for Bell, unfortunately she's already been pulled down, so he misses.
«Artillery» 7.7cm field gun artillery barrage batters Ocean Beach ineffectually.
O'Shea winces as arty begins raining down. He looks to Kwatra. "Well, Lance Corporal, think Johnny's gonna make a dash at our lines, or think he's just takin' the piss out of us?"
«Artillery» You hear artillery pounding Ocean Beach (1 6).
"I don't know, rain is nice… it's so quiet," She smiles. Bell loves rain. "Is it a nice place? Maybe I'll see it one day," A smile to Kwatra. "And aye, it's safe to smoke- so I let the blokes do so, as long as we're not full or too busy." Nod. She accepts their needs, it seems - as an inevitable fact. Sadly, the artillery interrupts her. "Take cover!" Bell calls out. The Sisters and patients scramble to do so too, as best as she can. She'll help as she's able to, although given Bell's height, she's at a distinct- Before she can get too far, McMillan jumps and pulls her down. Bell oofs she she's pulled down. She wasn't expecting that. "Probably both perhaps." A few blinks and she offers a smile to Kwatra too. A sort of silent thank you. "Makes sense anyway."
«Illumination» A Very light goes off over the battlefield!
«Artillery» 7.7cm field gun artillery barrage batters Ocean Beach ineffectually.
«Artillery» You hear artillery pounding Ocean Beach (1 6).
«Artillery» 7.7cm field gun artillery barrage batters Ocean Beach ineffectually.
«Artillery» You hear artillery pounding Ocean Beach (1 6).
«Artillery» 7.7cm field gun artillery barrage batters Ocean Beach ineffectually.
«Artillery» You hear artillery pounding Ocean Beach (1 6).
Kwatra is no sooner 'safely' beside a nearby cot before something strikes him. He gets up on his knee and looks about the place. No one is standing so he pops his head down again. "If they're going to rush it's someone else's problem." He shouts. "But they would be shelling the line if they wanted to make a push." After that effort he puts his head to the ground and listens to the whistling.
McMillan holds himself over Bell awkwardly for a moment before moving out from over her and taking a seat to her side, "Onlarin uyumasina izin ver!" He shouts in Turkish as if any of those dirty bastards could hear him.
«Artillery» 7.7cm field gun artillery barrage batters Ocean Beach ineffectually.
«Artillery» You hear artillery pounding Ocean Beach (1 6).
Colson crawls to the flap of the Station, glancing out, "Okay, no more talking about the rain. I think they heard us." He looks out, frowning, "Yes, this is just to annoy us, and make them feel better, dropping explosives on us." He sighs. La dee dah.
«Artillery» 7.7cm field gun artillery barrage batters Ocean Beach ineffectually.
«Artillery» You hear artillery pounding Ocean Beach (1 6).
«Artillery» 7.7cm field gun artillery barrage batters Ocean Beach ineffectually.
«Artillery» You hear artillery pounding Ocean Beach (1 6).
"Aye, takin' the piss out of us, then," O'Shea says to Kwatra. He eyes McMillan after the man's outburst. To Colson, "So they're annoying us, are they. Never a moment's rest, is there now." He points to the 75mm. "Say, lad, you don't know how to operate that, do ya?"
«Artillery» 7.7cm field gun artillery barrage batters Ocean Beach ineffectually.
«Artillery» Artillery barrage at Ocean Beach has lifted!
«Artillery» You hear artillery pounding Ocean Beach (1 6).
Kwatra shouts over to Colson. "How close are they landing?" The last part of that sentance rings loud as the shells stop falling. He lies on the floor a moment longer.
Bell blushes at the fellow over her. Ahem. Cough. She crawls up under cover herself. "Huh? Oh, the old 75mm? It's simple, you just adjust the dial-" She explains, motioning with her hands. "I-" Wait, how does BELL know how to do artillery? She closes her mouth and looks sheepish.
Colson ehs to Kwatra, "General shelling fire, they aren't locked in on anything, but they know we're in this area. It's not creeping to the Front or anything." He looks to O'Shea, "Well enough to fire it, but without orders and coordinates, I'm not stepping up to fire it."
McMillan looks over to Bell, "Go on, speak up, love."
Colson ehs to Kwatra, "General shelling fire, they aren't locked in on anything, but they know we're in this area. It's not creeping to the Front or anything." He looks to O'Shea, "Well enough to fire it, but without orders and coordinates, I'm not stepping up to fire it."
McMillan looks over to Bell, "Go on, speak up, love."
The shelling seems to have left O'Shea shaken up. He pokes his head out of the flap, glances up and down the trenchline. "Looks like they've stopped. Or they're fetchin' more ammunition." He grabs at his cigarettes, pops one in his mouth, lights it. "So much for a quiet night around here, eh?"
Kwatra flashes a look over to Bell, making a mental note never to make jokes about the quality of the royal navy's barrages ever again. He nods, pushing himself up to go to the tent flap. "Can you make out any injured?" He asks peering out and not seeing much beyound various bits of debris.
Colson shakes his head, "Teach me to talk about the quiet eh?" He smirks, and looks around, "Ehh, No injured I can see, though the Ox is something shy of pleased with his lot in life."
"Everyone's alright?" Bell looks over, surveying the tent for injuries. She has to take a moment to steady herself. Bedamned artillery. She closes her eyes a moment. And then turns red at McMillan, "A-ah? It's nothing interesting. Just I learned to use artillery," She's deliberately being vague as to HOW she learned. She looks to Kwatra, unaware of the mental note. The doctor stands and goes to the tent's opening, to check, she hunkers a bit as she does. "Don't see anyone…"
O'Shea takes a drag of his cigarette and exhales slowly. He heads back to the tent himself, looks up and down the line, eyes squinting in the darkness. "Doesn't look like anyone's hurt, don't hear anyone moanin in pain, neither." He ducks back into the tent. "Jaysus," he mutters, crossing himself.
Kwatra nods. "Lets hope they didn't get to much of our bully beef." Grinning to himself, he limps over to give some aid to the wounded getting off the floor. He fins he's not useful for very long and returns to the group in short order.
McMillan shakes his head and quietly says, "Hastalikli hayvanlar…" He stands up and looks around. Even though he's not the highest rank he takes command, "Soldiers, get your asses up and help the Sisters get wounded back to their beds." He glances over at Colson, "You keep watch incase a beturbaned bastard decides to pop in for a closer look." He helps a soldier to his bed.
Colson rises to his feet, and stretches, "Well, that was interesting." He says, popping a few joints, "Guess Johnny wanted to let us know he was still there."
"Eh, shut yer gob, James," O'Shea says to McMillan, rolling his eyes. To Colson, he grunts, "I would have thought livin in a ditch in this soddin country is enough of a reminder, eh?" He takes another drag of his cigarette.
A few blinks at McMillan, "Hey now… they're helping, the wounded have to be moevd slowly," Bell frowns a little. "And in certain ways so more damage isn't caused," She points out. She is standing at the entrance, peering out. "I don't see any blokes or Sisters wounded out there, so that's a blessing. Ox is good and safe too," A smile to the big beast.
Kwatra grins as McMillan's antics. He's not touched and of the more wounded soldiers, but has given the odd man a hand to climb up on. "Good to know they haven't packed up and left us shooting at straw dummies." His usefulness outlived he approaches Bell. "Could you look at the leg when it settles down a bit? I think I was a little hasty." He clears his throat. "Diving for cover."
Colson nods slightly, though to whom, it's not certain. "Well, back to normal." He glances back to Kwatra and Bell, then nods a bit, "Ox does look like he's settling down some."
McMillan is helping a nameless nurse move a nameless patient back to his cot, "Lazy bastards."
"How long have ya been here, Kwatra?" O'Shea asks the man. He glances at the big beast of burden, and smirks. "You call it 'Ox?' Not very imaginative, is it now?"
"He's more of a Sir Loin," Bell points out. A few blinks at McMillan. Bell looks abashed and quietly shrinks back. "Or something like that." She smiles weakly towards Kwatra and the others. She will move over towards Kwatra, "Here, sit on a cot, I can look at you - certainly," Bell will help the man onto a cot first.
Colson smiles, "Well, the Ox got the name Vaughn Jr. A while back, but that's kind of old news, and the bloke he was named after got a transfer out of here." He shrugs, "Least he stopped feeding the Ox fags. Can't imagine that was good for him."
Kwatra lets the question settle a while. He settles on "I landed when they were reinforcing the first few trenches." A frown takes residence on his face. He doesn't wave away the help, he gets to the nearest empty cot as fast he can and gets his leg up onto it, making a sheet just a littlbe bit browner.
O'Shea nods silently to Kwatra, pursing his lips. Looks away from the lance corporal's wounded leg. To Bell and Colson, he attempts a smile. "'Sir Loin?' Hah! I like that. Like it, indeed. Not knowing the bloke he was named after, can't rightly attest to 'Vaughn Jr.,' can I? Was the lad strong as an ox, or dull as an ox?"
McMillan settles a few more soldiers in before he walks over to Kwatra and Bell. Jokingly he says, "Oh…that looks infected. We may have to take it."
Bell nods, and listens. She smiles at O'Shea for a moment, "He's very helpful," She comments quietly. And then the storm clouds roll in. Bell goes quiet. Bell's expression shifts from faintly creepy and friendly to the very essence of a chilly winter's nightmare. The faint tendrils of shadow that move when light plays. Her grey eyes are icey, any trace of human friendliness shifted and dropped like china onto the floor. Even any breeze stops for a moment. Did it just get cold in here? It did. It seems to drop a few degrees around Bell. She eyes McMillan. "Please don't joke about that," She replies, softly as if holding back the coldness in her voice at least. "Because… that's very serious," She turns and begins to unwrap the wounded leg.
Colson shrugs, "He was a Provisional, or whatever they call it in the Australian service. Serving on the Front in lieu of a Prison sentence." He looks over to what McMillan says, and approaches, frowning. Colson obviously thinks that is NOT funny, given the common problems of infection causing amputation in this day and age. Granted in 13 years Penicillin will be discovered, but that's a while to wait.
O'Shea frowns, coughs, shifts his feet. He looks slightly uncomfortable now. He turns his head, looking away from the trio around Kwatra's bed. "Aye, service in lieu of prison," he says. He fumbles for another cigarette from his tin. Ah, Egyptian cigarettes!
Kwatra's frown breaks into a chuckle. "I've been told he lost a game of cards to that ox." He winces at the joke but says nothing, not that anything he said would compare to Bell's words. His, luckily isn't infected, but the scab that had been forming across the gash as been knocked aside, he's leaking. He smiles at the working doctor, but keeps his mouth very firmly shut.
McMillan adds to the conversation about Vaughn, "Aye, I heard the bloke killed a guy." He shrugs and glances at Colson, "Settle down, lad. No reason to break into a fight when it's got naught to do with liquor or a lady."
"A bloke killing a guy in a war? Well, there's a shocker," Bell smiles feebly at McMillan. "And … he has a point. Please don't joke about that here. The loss of a limb is … it's very serious matter." She nods. And a very real possibility for many. She will clean Kwatra's wounds as best as she can. "Ah, fortunately - the wound's not infected. Just dinged a bit when you moved. You'll be good as new soon," Smile. She fetches some clean gauze and pauses. "Huh? I didn't see anyone who wanted to fight…" She gives McMillan a sidelong glance.
Colson looks at Kwatras leg from a distance, and lets out a breath, looking to McMillan, but doesn't add anything about Vaughns status. He looks to O'Shea, "Well, he got reassigned, regardless. Not sure where he is these days."
"Aye, reassigned," O'Shea says simply, nodding to Colson. To McMillan, "Kwatra's a lance corporal, boyo. Warrants some respect, eh?" A grimace. "And gettin' into a row o'er liquor or ladies is stupid, so 'tis." He's still got his head turned away from the bandaging.
McMillan says, very blatantly, "Shut up, O'Shea." He digs around in his pack and pulls out his canteen to get a few drinks, he looks down to Kwatra, "I didn't mean anything by it, was only pulling yer leg."
Kwatra grins with relief. "Thank you Ma'am" He watches her do her work. "Good man wherever he is." He insists, still not looking up. Fortunately discipline's being taken care of for him, still he has to say /something/. He puts on a level voice. "Private MCMillan. We have a few unspoken rules around here. First we do not annoy the medics. Second we only make crude jokes about our comrades when they are in decent taste, third we don't pick fights for-" he stops to sniff a moment. "I thought you were laying off that stuff?" He asks, his NCO voice completely melting away.
Bell quietly rewraps Kwatra's leg, smiling at the relief on his face. "Aye, we come in your sleep," Bell affirms wryly. She looks to Kwatra again. There, all done. "All done there, just don't run any marathons or anything like that." Nod. "Huh? Oh the alcohol here? God, I hope you don't drink that - you'd be pickled," Bell winces. And a peer at McMillan, "Fighting over a woman seems illogical. She's not a /thing/." And now we all know why Bell is going to die alone.
Colson watches the rewrapping of Kwatras leg with interest, noting the style the Doctor uses to do the procedure.
O'Shea snorts. He takes a step towards the cot. It looks like he's got a retort lined up for McMillan, but he shuts his mouth after the lance corporal speaks up, and relaxes.
McMillan resists the urge to put the butt of his shotgun across O'Shea's face and just smirks at him. He takes another swig of his canteen and looks over at Kwatra, "Don't go assuming things, Lance Corporal. That'll get you killed." He says this jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. Whether he succeeds or not is still to be seen.
Kwatra frowns. "Ah." He looks up at McMillan "Where was I? Ah yes best not tell your comrades to shut up, that might be the man who was just about to tell you he saw a sniper." He's lost a lot of thunder there s he's quick to turn away and thank Bell, giving her a smile. He grins, and retorts. "Hasn't happened yet."
McMillan has disconnected.
«OOC» Kwatra, chairman of the OOC committee, decides that McMillan was called up for sentry duty and had to rush off.
Bell doesn't seem to mind Colson watching, she even steps aside a little. Her style is thoughtful, and deliberate. She frowns at McMillan's behavior, her grey eyes flickering again. Is evil Bell about to make another appearance? She shakes her head. "I do not think next time he will be here longer than needed," Is her soft, quiet reply. "I am sorry," She frowns. And the frown disappears as Kwatra smiles. It's hard /not/ to smile at the man. Daw. "Well, it's a bad habit to get into," Smile. "There you are. Did you want anything to drink?" Moving right along.
Colson turns his head slightly as McMillan goes to do.. something. He scratches his cheek. "So, Johnny threw shells at us. Pardon my saying so, Lance, but if we get shelled and all that we suffer is your wound needing a rewrap, I'll take it."
O'Shea snorts as McMillan leaves. "What's the word you Aussies use? 'Drongo?' Lad's as dense as shite and nearly as pleasant to be around. Is James always so cheesed off?" A quick glance at Kwatra, then he glances away.
Kwatra keeps his smile on. "No thank you Bell." He swings his leg off the bed, no screaming yet. A nod to Colson. "We've been lucky." He takes a few moments to arrange the words in his head. he turns to Bell. "Will you forgive him this? The lads cope differently with this sort of thing. It might be worth putting him right, but… I hope it doesn't stop him getting the best care." Now that he's done offending the doctor's proffesionalism he turns to the men. "Remember we got to work with that man. Keep whatever you want to say about him out of his hearing." With that over his smile drops and he holds his brow.
Bell can't stop smiling! Kwatra is keen. "Alright, I'm glad then." She's happy he's well … better. She blinks at Kwatra, then smiles feebly. "If I didn't shiv him in his sleep for the worse things he's asked me before, I can assure you I'll do my job. Not everyone is pleasant and so many are stressed. I don't understand people much, but I know that." She promises, then. Bell pauses, "And you're all good fellows. I think he's trying to impress people, too." Sigh. A shrug. "Oh well. I'm sorry about my part in that. I didn't mean to offend."
O'Shea nods to Kwatra and Colson. "Aye, Lance Corporal. I'll keep the peace, so I will, and try to get along with the man. Sorry if I started having a go at 'im; I can be something of a hothead meself at times." To Bell, he snorts. "Lad's tryin to impress people? What madman would be impressed by what we're doin, crawlin' around in the mud and gettin shelled. Can't even enjoy a fag without gettin' shelled back here," he mutters. "Been here not longer'n a month, an' all I can think about is gettin back to me ma' and da'." He looks down at his feet, takes a deep breath, and lets it out in a long sigh. For a moment, the Irishman looks even younger, if that's even possible. He's not immune to the pressure, either.
Kwatra smiles again, relief filling his eyes. "Thank you Doctor." A stress on doctor. His hand rises up halfway to her tthen falls down again, to push himself up. He sighs. "I'll find a moment to talk to him." he promises, where's that relief now? He nods to both men, as if the problem were solved. Then there's O'Shea's speal, he blinks, no one has ever put it quiet so sucinctly before of and once again Kwatra's not got the words for the situation.
"I will try to lecture him less," Bell promises. "I just …" Limb loss is /serious/. She smiles at Kwatra though, relief … daw. She tilts her head, and offers him help- but he seems to be up on his own. "A-alright. Please, I'm sorry." Bell apparently doesn't have a clue. A pause at O'Shea's words. She nods a couple of times. "I don't know either. Or why he insists on insulting me," Blush. "Even if it's true…" Sadface. Gonna die old and alone. Woe. A shrug. "I've no idea. But if you get too stressed out, and I'm on shift, you're welcome to come sit and talk." A smile at Colson too. "I will ask him to be more thoughtful if he acts up while staying here."
Colson looks at O'Shea, and nods, "That's natural, Connor. Nothing to be upset about. You've got a life back home to get back to. It's normal for you to look to that. but to do that, you've got to survive here, and that's a trick we're all interested in seeing you pull off, alright? So everyone here is more than willing to help out however they can. you just ask us, okay?"
O'Shea looks around the tent, nodding. "Aye, lads (and lass), I'm grateful fer ye. Were it not fer this human kindness, why, service in this army would be quite the lonely ordeal, eh?" He smiles.
Kwatra hears nothing after "Insulting me." His mood takes a sudden turn. "He insulted you?" He asks, his voice trembling. Why is he the last to know everything? It's a good thing the others are being so helpful to Connor because Kwatra appears to be on the warpath.
Colson smiles, clapping O'Shea on the shoulder, and he looks to Kwatra and Bell, blinking slightly.
"Uhm. It's okay, really, I'm sure he didn't - mean to offend." A handwave. Kwatra's sudden mood change startles even Bell, her eyes widening. "Alright? I- am touched though," Poor Kwatra. Bell looks worried. "And I'm going to call myself lucky to have such a good friend, okay?" Flail. She's making it worse. "Besides, it's actually sort of funny I guess."
O'Shea glances between Bell and Kwatra. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. He shifts his feet, coughs.
Kwatra still doesn't appear to be listening. "What did he say?" He's staring past everyone to the tent flaps McMillan left through. "You don't do such things to a /lady/" Is his thinly veilled apology, spoken to the entire room.
Colson nods slightly to Kwatra and looks to Bell, interested in a specific way, lowering his hand from O'Sheas shoulder, slowly.
"…" Bell frowns, "I wouldn't want someone to get in trouble on my behalf. He apologized for it later, but… he keeps being nice one moment then rude the next. I don't know what to think," She rubs the back of her head. "It would be awkward to say, but it is rude to string you out. So um, he did apologize. And it was awhile ago anyway. He asked if I had someone at home. I said no, why? He said oh, it wasn't that… he just wanted to know if any man could stand me." Bell laughs sheepishly. "I'm - I guess I can see if it I go work…"
"'If any man could stand ya?'" O'Shea says. He rolls his eyes. "You and the sisters are practically everyone's mums." A pause. "Might I call ya 'Trench Mother,' Doctor?" He laughs, uncomfortable now, waiting to see how Kwatra reacts.
Despite selective hearing there's not much to stoke Kwatra's anger. He deflates a fair bit. "Well as long as he doesn't do it again." Yes an ultimatum! He's a bit sheepish now. He puts on a wavering smile for show and turns to actually look at Bell. "Tell me if he says anything so blatently stupid again." He manages, the awkwedness of the situation weighs down on him.
Colson sighs, "There are times in a mans life that he feels needful to make an apology for another mans actions or words, solely because he shares a gender with the offending male. This is one of those times."
Oh dear. Bell looks a bit worried by that. Cautiously, she gently pats Kwatra's shoulder, if he doesn't move away. GASP. A rarity for Bell. "I'll be sure he doesn't. I feel very lucky to have a friend like you," Smile. "Thank you. Don't sweat it. I'm a bit older, I get jokes like that from time to time." Handwave. A few blinks at O'Shea and she nods, "Aha… that's alright. There's worse nicknames in the world," She jokes lightly. "And besides, the blokes here are /stuck/ with us." She is not above self depreciating joke. "No worries."
"I'd apologize for the man, but I just met 'im," O'Shea says. A wink to Bell. "Trench Ma, then. Er, jokin, of course, Doctor" he says, grinning. O'Shea seems to relax a little.
Colson nods, "Aye, kind of an embarassment." He looks to Kwatra, and nods, "Lance." He says, "I think some rest to process this and a boring watch would be a good way to mull this over."
"Aye," O'Shea concurs. "Nothin' like a borin watch to set yer thoughts straight."
He didn't - Bell looks worried now and nods. "I'm sorry I kept you up. Please come by if you need anything," She'll let him escape. "Be safe out there," She smiles at the poor fellow. Bell rubs the back of her head sheepishly. A little grin at O'Shea's joke. "Better watch it or I'll make you do chores." A faint joke of her own, although it's somewhat distracted.
Kwatra nods, the men talk sense. "Thanks lads. Be careful." He turns to Bell and tugs the turban. "Ma'am." With that he's off to a nice cozy dugout.
