You Must Be New

Where: Mediana
Who: Hans, Lind, Matti, Vaclav
When: September, 1937

With the sunrise, the town of Mediana stirs to what semblance of life remains for it: soliders going about the tasks of a morning in camp; changing watches, preparing breakfast, and- in the case of Vaclav, rising with a low muttering to sit upright on his cot, looking about for the nearest brigadier..

Elizabeth is already up, out of her bed for what is likely the first time in days. She's standing at one of the windows of the aide station, framed by the light of the rising sun. Arms crossed, she's staring out into the dawning day in silence.

Matti enters the house with a clatter and commotion quite atypical to the slender, careful man. The reason for this is immediately apparent - he has a large cloth sack on his back, and is struggling to bear his burden to the aid station without dropping it. At length, he manages to reach the rough centre of the room, depositing the sack on the floor with a clatter of wood and metal. The slender Finn looks up, nodding to Vaclav, "Morning, comrade corporal."

The ex-mechanic, the new armored car crew, Hans Munch is standing near the Armored car with a wrench on his hand, adjusting his machine guns accuricy slightly. He mumbles and sighs, he oils a rag and starts to oil the weapon…

Lind has been out exploring the town with Matti, checking out the abandoned houses for anything useful, long since having abandoned the moral feelings of entering another person's home to take things. Cause, they need these items for their survival as it is now. Earlier in the day she and Matti were putting up a makeshift washing area in the house, consisting of a couple of blankets as walls, an old rickety bench and a bucket to put water in. Offers some privacy for washing up. She ducks in with the Finn and looks around, smiling when seeing people are up. "Good morning," she echoes.

The noisy entrance has even Elizabeth turning around, slowly, eyes half-hidden in shadow a she looks in the direction of Matti. Since she was brought in, the photographer has seemed like a different person, a hollowed out version of herself. The SIM really are bastards, it seems. When in doubt, blame them!

Vaclav eyes Elizabeth at the window with a frown, before the others enter with clattering sacks, and frowns and smiles (obviously Matti did'nt come in alone). "Comrades," he rumbles with a slow dip of his head. "The breath drawn for speech is held a moment, as blue eyes narrow further on the source of the noise to ask curtly, "What in that?"

Matti glances at Elizabeth a little oddly; the last time they spoke wasn't particularly pleasant. At any length, when Vaclav question him, he upends the sack, clearing its contents on the floor with an ungodly racket. No sensitivity for any possible headaches here. He gestures in the direction of the assortment of goodies before him, "Some metal wash basins, few stools, bag of potatoes found in cellar, and some other things. House in south, looked like was owned by capitalist bourgeois. Run for their lives now, but leave us presents." He glances at Lind and her yet-to-be emptied sack.

The ex-mechanic dries his his forehead with his shirt, "Can someone give me a hand comrades?" he asks to the house, he seems to need assistance to reattach the machine gun back to its proper place.

Lind upturns her own sack which isn't as heavy and doesn't create quite the same racket. It has some old blankets in it, a few pots and pans and other assorted items of use. "We only took what could be used, it's all in here," she says, feeling a bit uncertain about the 'looting' but not especially guilty either. She glances at Elizabeth and offers the woman a kind smile.

Watching as the sacks are upended, and their contents scattered across the floor, Elizabeth's expression remains bland. Even when Lind smiles at her, the photographer doesn't return the smile. At least, not immediately. But after a minute, there is the faintest hint of a smile back before she drops her hands to her sides and starts slowly back towards her cot.

Vaclav's eyes close, and his teeth clench at the clatter of 'loot' Matti upends. Blue regard cracking open an instant later, in a flat glare, the corporal rumbles. "Leave in plain sight. Comrades will take what need.." A drawn breath as he regard passes from Matti to Lind, lingering a moment beofre addressing both at large, with a short shake of his head to clear the morning cobwebs, "Pass word through Company, comrades. Begin pack for march. Not strike yet, but being ready."

Hans throws a small stone to the window of the house, "Hey! I need someone to assist me to reattach the machine gun." he yells out throwing 2-3 more stones to take attention from house…

Matti blinks at Vaclav, frowning. It's an expression that suits his face eminently well. "Right." He shakes his head, nudging a fall stool with a boot. After a long while, he mutters, "You mean we move because we advancing, or we move because we… Well. You know." The rest remains unsaid. Many things are best left unsaid, in this war.

Matti glances outside of the window with the rattle of stones against it, calling out, "Keep your pants on, comrade." He makes no move to leave the house yet, though.

Lind scoops up the items again, putting them back in the sack for now. Hearing the stones on the building she glances out too but doesn't respond. Instead, she moves over to Vaclav with the intent of looking over his bandages. "How's your head?" she asks, knowing that that wound is the worst one. She has no further questions on the marching part, as Matti's asked them already.

Elizabeth settles onto her cot, quiet for a minute before, "Did you find paper? Or charcoal, or a pencil?" she asks quietly, without actually directing the question towards any particular person. But at least she's saying something, and it's not a single word answer to a direct question.

Vaclav draws a slow breath and rumbles back in reply, after a moment, "Unless new courier come in night, last word is advance on Zaragoza halted. For short time," he adds flatly a moment later. "We not ordered move yet, but want Company ready. Two companies of XIth moved to fortify Belchite yesterday-" fortifying, rather than advancing. "We may follow." A slowly drawn breath as Lind inspects the bandages. "Better," he mutters unhelpfully, looking up with a frown as rocks pelt one fo the stations's last intact windows, before looking aside at Liz's inquiry, regard going back to Matti, then Lind for answer.

Matti sighs, grumbling to himself in low Finnish as he gathers up the loot into the sack once more. He seems absolutely unashamed by this liberation of bourgeois property. He looks closely at Vaclav, his eyes narrowing slightly… The sullen Finn's voice is uncommonly serious, as he mutters, "How bad is it, in Belchite?" With Elizabeth's writing supplies inquiry, he shakes his head, his blue-grey eyes sliding from the corporal to the reporter, "I don't know. Maybe pencils and paper there, maybe not… Was not paying attention. Only look for food supplies, and useful items." Apparently, the paper and pencils aren't in his opinion particularly useful.

Hans mumbles and starts to install the machine gun back to its proper place all by himself, he curses, "With comrades like you, who needs the facists…" in german, he sighs and works on the machine gun..

Lind looks content after checking the bandages. "I'll change them later, they're fine for now," she promises Vaclav, taking a step back, lingering near him a bit longer than necessary. Elizabeth's query is met with a shake of her head, but followed with; "I have a pencil and some paper though, I'll be glad to share," she offers, moving over to her backpack to get it.

Getting the response to her question, Elizabeth merely nods in response, starting to lay down again. Though Lind's offer has her stilling and trying to right herself again. Her head lifts, and she follows Lind's movements silently again.

"Belchite is in Republic hands. Fighting yesterday cleared last fascist.." what word? "Building holds. Is back from front fighting, but commands bridge, road to Madrid. Town worse broken by fighting than Mediana, from report. Will need such like that-" a motion toward the assorted pans, basins and blankets. An errant potato is narrowly eyed. A look to Lind and a nod at her words, before his uneven blue stare flies toward the window. "What did he say?" the corporal growls, repeating louder in german, "What the hell did you just say?"

Matti nods gloomily at the words from the corporal, muttering, "Will be bloody, tough fighting, then. Fascist bastards fight hard to retake lost ground." He doesn't seem particularly distressed, rather taking this news with the same sullen resentfulness that seems to characterize his whole attitude towards the outside world. He looks from Lind to Elizabeth with mild curiosity, as if wondering what the purpose of this writing business may be, in this case. The Hans-Vaclav exchange receieves only peripheral attention.

Hans doesnt seem to notice vaclav yelling at him, he works on the ACs machine gun alot.
Lind looks up as Vaclav yells and she winces a little but doesn't get involved with it. She brings a pencil and some paper over to Elizabeth and sets it down on her bed, avoiding eye contact with the other woman. "That's all I have," she murmurs, then withdraws to start packing items in the house so they can be quickly moved.

"Thank you." And Elizabeth sounds almost painfully sincere in that sentiment as the items she'd asked for are left for her at the end of her bed. And she must appreciate them, as she insteantly reaches for the paper and pencil, the lead starting across the page almost before she's balanced it in her lap.

Vaclav glares out the window a moment longer awaiting some answer- before clenching his eyes shut, and lowering his head slightly- enforced calm, as his head begins throbbing when the coproral's temper escapes him. Even upon looking back up and drawing a slow breath, the big czech says nothing for a long moment.

"I think it just bad joke, corporal. I know we have other bad jokers in company, too." The latter, Matti mutters with a dark frown - apparently he's /not/ talking about himself. He walks over to the wall, depositing the now filled sack there to avoid it being in the way. Looking aside at Vaclav, he says, "We lose many veterans lately. War crazy, no? One man get his head blown to shit, one man just take a scratch, and another walk away unscathed."

Hans finishes repairing the armored car, he cleans his hands on his jeans legs. He walks to the house and walks to Vaclav, reporting, "The Armored car is ready Comrade. I have adjusted the accuricy 5 percent better then before." he says rubbing his hands together.

Elizabeth sinks back onto her cot, curling her legs and folding them under her as she stares at the paper, the pencil moving easily across the page. She doesn't look up to survey her surroundings, so it's likely a safe bet she isn't sketching the aide station.

"We lose many men, Comrade. Will be very angry if bad joke kills me," the corporal growls sidelong toward Matti, before looking back to the door as Hans enters, and reports. "Car is ready, good. Repaired from shelling?" he prompts, curtly.

Hans nods his head to vaclav, "Its looking good." he says, "It had minor damage to the machine guns alignment, I fixed it." he says, "There isnt anything I can do about it any more. Its at top shape."

Matti nods absently, grimacing as if he tasted something sour. His generically sullen, unpleasant face is not greatly improved by this change. He peers out of the window curiously at the car and the Brigadier near it - he hasn't really gotten a close look at the Armoured Car so far.

Vaclav nods once. "Good. Munition? Bullets, shells. Count is good?" he queries in his curt speech, of the driver. A pause as the corporal looks about for, and picks up a nearby cup.

Hans hmms and takes out a check list at his belt, "We have more than 4/5 of the supplies and only 4-5 shells were fired on it. We have good supplies of ammunation." he says. "All I need is a skilled Driver. Comrade Ubbe is a very good driver but when he isnt around I still need a driver." he says.

Matti goes searching for a cup and something to drink himself, having been engaged in the thirsty business of looting for a while now.

Elizabeth is busy sketching, though the movement of her borrowed pencil is no longer feverish but slow and methodical, tiny minute movements.

"Hrm. When back in Madrid, find Courier Guerrero. If not drive, can find driver for car." That to Hans, before taking a sip of slightly stale water, expression unchanged.

Matti glances around as Vaclav talks about Elene, his perpetually sullen expression disappearing for a few seconds, before inevitably returning once more. He questions Vaclav yet again, curiously, "You hear any news from Madrid, comrade corporal? Has the situation changed there?"

Hans nods his head to Vaclav, "As you wish."

Vaclav shakes his head once to Matti's inquiry, "Recieve no word of Madrid, comrade." A second, longer sip to drain the cup of water and the vessel is set aside. "Finn-" he looks to Matti again, "Any civilian left in town, you find?"

Matti nods, his sour frown unchanged. As Vaclav questions him, he shakes his head, turning his head to spit out of a broken-glassed window. "Have seen no civilian while I here whole time, comrade corporal. If I saw someone in window where I know no sentry posted, I would call out to make sure it not ours, and then shoot." He stares grimly at Vaclav. With the amount of snipers he's seen here, he's not taking chances.

"Good," Vaclav rumbles to Matti's sentiments. a slowly drawn breath as the czech orders his thoughts for a long moment.

Matti shakes his head, spitting sourly out of the window once more. He mutters grimly, "Seen two comrades die with bullet in head. Not want to join them." The slight, sullen man stares outside, his face distorted by a frown, and his thoughts abstracted from the here and now.

"Hrm," Vaclav rumbles, frowning. "You must be new."

Matti glances aside from his post near the window, snorting loudly, "Yes, I suppose I must be. Seen plenty of people get dinged, but only two bite bullet." What a charming image. Unsurprisingly, he seems well in tune with this particular brand of humour.

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