o2 ✍ sharpe's distractions ✍ video

[sharpe]

[ The video opens to a pair of hands. Hands, paper, and a line of tobacco. A cigarette being rolled before the camera is tipped upwards and Sharpe comes into view. He drags a hand through his hair, which is more than slightly wet by the rain. It's obvious after a while that he's outside, sitting below the awning of one of the houses in the Hold. His rifle, leaning against his shoulder, is completely dry.

He takes out a lighter and snaps it on, lighting the homemade cigarette and taking a drag. ]

Convenient things, these. [ Tosses the lighter up, and catches it again. ] Works better than any flint. [ Pause, and he shrugs. ] But I ain't here ta talk 'bout fires.

I'm a soldier and I ain't use ta just waiting 'round here. Even travelling and sightseeing [ he grins at this, because going out to the Outlands was fun but not the kind of sightseeing and travel most gentlemen go for ] gets tiring after a while. [ He leans a bit further back against the wall. ] There any books 'round? [ Beat, then he clarifies, because his accent tends to mark him as illiterate: ] Fer reading, I mean. English'd do, but if there's something in French or Spanish, I ain't going ta say no.

[ He takes a drag of the cigarette contemplatively. ]

Stories'll do as well, if no one's got any books ta read.

[ He makes to switch off the transmission, but then he seems to remember something. Scramble, scramble, oops, ash and burnt paper on the camera, which he brushes away irritatedly. ]

Can someone explain ta me how a man and a woman can share the same house without being married or related ta each other? [ He tips his head ta the side. ] It don't say much for decency or the woman's reputation, no. [ Beaaaaaaaaaaaat. ]

And what's those noises on the thirteen floor of that damned building we've been housed in, eh?

[ This is actually Sharpe's point in making the transmission but he wants books as well. Whatever. Look, it's shut off for real now. ]

a little bit later, 10% (crappily) encrypted to morgana

[ Awkwardly: ] How fares you, milady?

Comments

[sharpe]

Teach you ta be a soldier? What fer?

[innominata]

[ Eye roll ]

No. Your languages.

[sharpe]

What do you want ta learn 'em fer?

[innominata]

Because.

[sharpe]

I ain't teaching you withou' a good reason.

[innominata]

I can't want to know?

[sharpe]

I've have ta write out the languages since the books are in these things and you can't scribble on the screen. [ Testily. ] And I ain't much good with a pen.

[ Look he's 37 and he has known how to write for 10 of those 37 years. Give him a break. :| ]

[innominata]

Or you could point at things and say their name. I'll teach you mine.

[sharpe]

That won't teach you ta put sentences together properly. [ Dryly. ]

What's yer language, lass?

[innominata]

Braavosi.

[sharpe]

Never heard of it. What's it sound like?

[innominata]

[ She speaks a common greeting in Braavosi, "How many years have you?" It has a sound closer to Greek and Persian. Any natural Braavosi speaker would pick up on her accent, barely there now but present, but she knows no one here will call her on it. ]

[sharpe]

[ He chuckles, and drawls: ]

Je ne sais pas ce que tu viens de dire.

[ I don't know what you just said. Thank you, Google Translate. ]

[innominata]

What was that?

[sharpe]

French. I told you I don't know what you said.

[innominata]

[ She snickers. ]

[sharpe]

Now's yer turn ta tell me what you said, since I was all kindly and such.

[innominata]

I said, "Hello."

[sharpe]

That's a damned long word fer 'Hello' ta be.

[innominata]

It's not one word. But that's how we say it.