@set Bell=Downer

Yuck, a replacement. Or at least, someone who hasn't seen much action at the front, from the looks of O'Shea's uniform. Pretty clean. Doesn't look like he spends much time crawling around on his belly. The young man ambles about, eventually wandering into the aid area.

Sun! Suuuuuun. Sun is the enemy! Bell is already burning nicely beneath it as she's helping unload water into the aid station. "Hah…" Phew. She wipes her brow, although the woman seems a bit subdued, thoughtful. She pauses, noticing someone ambling into the aid area. "Allo, sir."

"Top o' the morning to ya," O'Shea says, tipping the brim of his floppy hat slightly. He pokes his head in the tent, peeks this way and that, then enters. "Say, I don't suppose a foine lass like you would have any fags on ya, would ya?"

MORE Irishmen? Bell turns her head and blinks. "Good morning," A smile. "Aah… err." Bell pats her pockets and frowns, "I'm sorry, not at the moment. I can check to see if any were left behind. People never seem to come back for them," And she'll hunt. Although, other doctors may have claimed them. A rough looking package is found. "Eh. Here's a couple." She turns to the fellow. "Are you new here?"

"Aye, so to speak," O'Shea says. "Landed with the rest of the boys last month, seemed to miss all the proper action, so I've heard." He takes the pack of smokes, shakes one out, pops it in his mouth. He doesn't light it. The other cigarette, he sticks into his breast pocket. The pack, he merely crumples and tosses outside the tent. "Cheers," O'Shea says. "Me name's Connor O'Seagha, but me papers say 'Private O'Shea.'"

"Oh, I see," Bell replies quietly. She nods as she listens. She looks a bit red. Sunburn city. She doesn't say anything as he pops the cigarette into his mouth. A faint smile at his cheers. "Mmhm. I'm Doctor Bell Raine. Pleased to meet you," She replies. "Did you prefer O'Shea or O'Seagha then?" She asks. She fumbles a bit with the pronounciation, but the effort is there.

O'Shea shrugs. "Truth, it don't matter. Most people here call me 'Private O'Shea,' usually followed by 'dig here,' or 'fetch some more water' or 'scrounge up some fags from the lads in the rear,'" he says, rolling his eyes. "Fine sawbones like you can just call me 'Connor.' Be a nice change of pace, it would."

"Oh? Alright," Bell smiles a little. A faint blush, although it's hard telling on her. "Well, that's kind of you to say, Connor. It's a pleasure to meet you." She bobs her head, perhaps in lieu of a curtsey. "I'm sure you'll be put to more than digging or water fetching, at least here…" She seems quieter for a moment at that.

Colson sloughs his way from the East, rifle in his left hand, right hand clasping his left arm, heading to the Aid Station, looking slightly irritated at something as he walks.

"Aye, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" O'Shea says. His lips work at the cig between his lips. "Lately, seems everyone takes me as dense as sun-baked shite, on account of me bein here less than a month and 'inexperienced.' Like any one of us is going to go kill the Kaiser and win the war all by ourself. Lad's gotta learn the ropes sometimes!" Green, relatively new to military life, but he's already mastered the fine art of griping.

Bell is near the edge of the aid station, listening quietly. She seems subdued, although it's hard to tell if the sun has sapped her or what is happening. "Mmhm. That's how it is here. Wait and see," She replies quietly. Her head tilts at him. "I doubt any of them really think that of you. I don't - it's just a strange fight sometimes. Not like ones before it, so they worry about new people." Bell points out. She takes a deep breath. "You'll find some ropes soon, if the Turks have a say." And so Bell dispenses her quiet wisdom. Although, her head turns. Motion? Colson-?

Colson approaches, nodding to Bell, "Allo." He says, looking to O'Shea, inclining his head again, "Morning, not interrupting, I hope." He looks at his arm. "Bandages dislodged on me, I'm going to need to rewrap, I'm afraid." He doesn't sound like this is a dire emergency.

O'Shea nods back to Colson. "Top 'o the mornin to ya," he says. He pulls a cigarette out of his breast pocket, holds it out to the man. "You look like shite, lad. Fancy a fag? It's the last of the ones Doctor Bell 'ere scrounged up." To Bell, he shrugs. "Aye," he says. "Johnny Turk's got a lot to say, or so I been told."

Bell turns as Colson mentions his problem. She nods at O'Shea. "Does he ever. Almost got shot earlier," She remarks quietly, her face twisting for a split second. Grief. But it fades fast. The doctor is good at tamping down her emotions. "I'm just unloading water and keeping an eye on patients," She smiles at Colson, "So I can get you here now. Sit where you like," She fetches some gauze. "So no, not interrupting at all. I believe our friend here may be working with you soon, if they've moved him down to our part of the line." Ahem. It's a rough start to an introduction.

Colson smiles to O'Shea, "Thank you, no. Don't smoke, myself. Sniper concerns. Private Colson, good to meet you. I'd offer to shake but.." He looks at his arms, both busy at the moment, "In a bit, perhaps.." He moves to sit obediently. He looks at Bell, brow creasing, "Something happen while I was on the line?" He asks, then looks back to O'Shea, "Really? Welcome aboard, mate."

"You can call me Connor, but when the NCOs are around, call me Private O'Shea," O'Shea says. "A shame you don't smoke; I was gonna ask ye if ye had any lights, but I'll just wait until later." Eyes dart between Colson and Bell. He falls silent, purses his lips together, listens.

"Aye, we were getting water. Snipers attacked, some bad news, but I'm not sure you wish to hear it," Bell speaks quietly. She smiles faintly at his offer to shake. "Yes, hold still or I'll have you looking like one of those mummies," Grin. Bell will unwrap what's left of the old bandages that hasn't unwrapped already. She'll dab and clean away at the wound.

Colson listens to Bell, growing serious, "Did we lose anyone?" Which is the pertinant question that springs to mind when the mention of the Sniper attack comes. He looks to O'Shea, and nods, "Connor, or Private O'Shea, got it." He looks back to Bell.

O'Shea frowns, doesn't say anything. Waits for Bell to say something.

"Yes. Private Lewis," Bell remarks quietly. She takes a deep breath, looking a bit troubled. She doesn't seem to want to elaborate much. Again, she tamps down any outward expression. "I'm sorry," She murmurs. "He was a good fellow." A sad headshake as she rewraps Colson's arm.

Colson blinks. Twice. "Lewis." He thinks for a moment, "He wasn't even here that long, what.. A week, two?" He shakes his head, holding still for Bell to work, and releases a breath, "Didn't get to know him that well." He ruminates, staring off into nothing.

"Jaysus," O'Shea mutters, crossing himself. "Did ye know Private Lewis well, Doctor Bell? My condolences fer yer loss. Shame, really." He lifts his floppy hat slightly.

Nod. "Unfortunate," Bell replies quietly. "Seemed nice enough. But- I suppose what's done is done. Oh, no, not too well. Just a nice fellow and I was there to witness it personally." That's how it is. Even Bell is numb sometimes. She shakes her head again. "Bah. I'm sorry. I'm happy to see you and meet the new fellow here," A sad smile. "It's just shocking to see it happen, I suppose. My marbles'll be in a line soon," SHe promises, waving a hand. "Did either of you need anything, like water? Thank you though, for your kind words. Just - for the love of god, don't salute or wave out there."

Colson nods, slowly, "Snipers will sight in on motion, nd salutes are like painting a target on a superior." He shakes his head, "No thank you, Doctor." He says, quietly.

O'Shea pulls the cigarette from his mouth and puts it in his breast pocket. Now he's chewing on his lip. "Jaysus," he says again, shaking his head. "Damn shame. I been a stretcherbearer, but so far I only been on the reserve line. Haven't made any chums yet really. Easier to cart the wounded further back when you don't know 'em."

Bell nods at that. Maybe the advice will serve on someone. She offers a faint smile. "There you go, all done. No herculean feats of lifting until that heals up," She offers softly. A nod at O'Shea. She doesn't comment any further. She seems pained by something, especially the motion and sniper comment. "Mmm…" She looks like she's torn on something. Take a deep breath. "I suppose that's true. You'll probably make a few here. They're good blokes here," She adds quietly.

Colson nods, "I'm sure it is easier that way." He looks at his arm, "Thank you, Doctor." He pauses, looking at Bell, "Are you alright?" Vampire Doctor's lost her hiss.

O'Shea has just met Doctor Bell, so he isn't familiar enough to make any inquiries. The young man just kind of stands there and shuffles his feet a little, chewing on his lip.

"Mmm? Yes. I'm fine," Bell tries another smile. "I'm just busy acting like a sop for a bit. I'll write it down later and stop being so silly." Her voice is soft and quiet though. She'll get her hiss back in time perhaps. "I feel rather bad- I think… he saw us and waved," She closes her eyes. "Or rather, me. So it was my fault." There. Burden OFF shoulders. Bell straightens. "Please, don't worry. It'll pass in time. And I don't want to make anyone's stay here- well…" She doesn't want to depress the hell out of everyone. Failing miserably. Cough.

Colson lifts his head in understanding, and nods deeply, "Aye, I see." He rises, "Alright, Doctor, let me say this. You were there, Lewis made a mistake. Insofar as that happens, those are facts. It's also a fact that No one on our line pulled the trigger on Lewis. That was a Turkish Sniper. He saw a motion, sighted a target and took the shot. I've been on the other side of the Scope, myself, that's how you do it. You can feel how you feel, and that's as right as you let it be. Blame for Lewis does not fall on you. Making your presence known to the front line is important. Soldiers need to know the situation they're in. You were on the Front. Carrying the burden of Lewis is not going to help anything now. You're not to blame, Full Stop." He pauses and tilts his head to Bell, "Alright?"

O'Shea purses his lips, listening to Colson. He shrugs, says to Bell, "Makes sense, lass. Not that I can offer any personal experience, but the lad makes sense."

Bell nods and listens, although her eyebrow lifts. "I'm honestly surprised they didn't pick the Sisters or I off too…" White coats or uniforms. She listens more then. "I suppose you're right," She agrees, "Just hard not to believe otherwise." She looks to Colson. Hard not to manage half a smile. "Thank you both. You're kinder to this old bat than I deserve," A wry joke at that. "So please. Don't worry about it. It's probably just shock seeing it so close too," She shakes her head. Seems loathe to lift her hands. Wonder why.

Colson shakes his head, "Medical personnel take a secondary priority to armed forces." Shoot the gun toting men first, basicly. "But that doesn't mean they won't take a Medico as an opportunity target." He looks to O'Shea and nods, "You'll get seasoned soon enough. Just keep cool, and learn." He smiles, "We've all been green at one point."

"Think nothing of it, lass," O'Shea says, smiling. "Only right to be kind to you. After all, now I know who to go to for free fags." To Colson, he winks. "Aye, we'll see, we will."

"That makes sense too," Bell admits. A big fellow is probably scarier than a skinny git like her. She takes a deep breath. Still. She smiles back at O'Shea, "That's kind of you to say. And hah… I'll keep my eyes open," She promises. "I'm just wondering if they sent half of Ireland down here," Bell rubs the back of her head. "Or just a couple of units."

Colson smirks, "Who knows how many Irishmen they sent down here, not many Brits, that's apparent." He looks to O'Shea, and nods, "We will indeed."

"I'll tell you this," O'Shea says, "I'm the only Irishman who matters." He grins. "How many Irish lads do ya see wearin' this grand hat? I know a lot of the other Irishmen are in 10th Division. Not as foine hats."

"Dunno, just a bit interesting to see who is from where that they send down here," Bell nods. She does smile at O'Shea's statement. "Oh. They almost fought trying to decide that earlier, a couple of the blokes from Ireland anyway. At least one private is here, he's asleep I think-" A pause, "But you'll meet him soon enough if you stop by. And another few roam around." Grin. Well… He has a point. Bell seems to concede. "No, none yet. It's a very nice hat." She accepts this. "I'm glad to have met you, and glad to see you're doing well," This to Colson. "But I think I'll sleep between my shifts today. I'm going to sunburn even worse at this rate." Poor Bell. Damn the sun!

Colson nods to Bell, "Sleep well, Doctor, and thank you for the rewrap." He nods to his arm. He then looks to O'Shea, "fine hat, keep it out of sight on the front line so it doesn't draw attention."

"A good day to ya, Doctor, get some rest, will ya," O'Shea says. To Colson, "So I've heard. I expect they'll be rotatin' me out to the front line soon enough."

"That I will, thank you both," Is repeated quietly. Bell gives them a little fingertip wave and disappears towards the back.

Colson nods to O'Shea, "I'm sure they will, so I hope you're ready for it." He looks around, and says, "I should be getting some kip myself. Not normally a day person."

"Suppose I should get bring some water back for the lads," O'Shea says. "Then get back to diggin'. After this war ends, maybe I could make ditch diggin me profession." He grins. "Pleased to meet you, Private Colson."

Colson chuckles, nodding, "Always did tell us they'd teach us skills for life." He grins, "alright, see you later, Connor."

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