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*Congrats, you have found a fort. It's not much of a fort--in fact it looks to have come straight out of the Civil War or so--but it's a fort.

*On the stoop of one of the buildings stands a man in an equally outdated uniform.*

[...well. This is new.

He'll approach cautiously, snow crunching underneath his boots as he hails the good Colonel with a raised hand.]

'scuse me, sir. Can you tell me where I am?

Fort Spencer, California. Are you lost, soldier?

[A flash of red hair, a few cracking branches, and a glimpse of white fabric are all that reveal the presence of another presence, and they only last for a second. Someone is hiding, and seems to know that another person is looking.]

[California?

He doesn't recall hallucinations being a symptom of dehydration. All the same, it occurs to him now that his throat is parched.

He rubs the back of his neck, turning his gaze to the length of the treeline along the fort.]

It seems I am, sir.

[He looks back to Colonel Ives, spreading his hands before bringing them back together and rubbing them for warmth. The cold, at least, is familiar.]

I'm meant to be in Belgium. With the rest of my company.

[White fabric. Not olive-drab, not field-gray - white. And red hair - no helmet that he could see.

Medics in the ETO are unarmed as a matter of course, and so Eugene darts behind a tree, dropping to one knee as he peers around the trunk.]

Hello?

Y at-il quelqu'un là-bas?

Edited 2016-07-28 18:37 (UTC)

How very odd. But I've seen stranger things in my time. *He smiles reassuringly, or as close to it as he can manage.* Come inside, won't you? I have a fire going, you can get warm. Maybe have something to eat and drink, as well.

[Eugene hesitates for a moment, rubbing his hands.

Then he nods, his breath fogging in the cold air.] That'd be much appreciated, sir. Thank you.

[And so, without further ado, he trods on out of the forest and towards the fort. He can get his bearings inside, figure a way back to Easy Company if he's lucky. And it'll be nice to warm up by an actual fire.]

You're most welcome, my lad. *He lets the man in, then follows after him.* I am Colonel Ives, by the way.

Would you like some stew? I also have scotch, brandy and a bit of cider, if you're thirsty.

[Nestled in a hollow, the English colonel has started a fire no bigger than a few twigs to heat up one of the MRE they are carrying. The packet is carefully opened. His voice is a quiet rumble,]

Smells like mutton stew.
[The label fell off on a beach somewhere.]

[Now that no one was shooting at them, the colonel having put his scoped rifle to good use, it might be time for introductions.]
What's your name, medic?

[Eugene looks around as he enters the fort, taking it in.] Sergeant Roe. Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment.

[At the mention of stew, he glances over his shoulder at Ives.] Stew would be good, sir. But, ah - [he shakes his head] -no hooch, thank you. Just water, if you have it.

[Eugene settles into the hollow easily enough, eyes watching the treeline like a rabbit about to spook.]

Sergeant Roe, sir. From the 506th.

[Cautiously, he warms his hands by the fire.]

The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.

There is water, yes. *He gives the other man a glass, then ladles up some stew. He'll even be nice enough to serve Roe a bowl with no fingers in it.*

Moran. British. Fusilier. [As if the clipped accent and rifle hadn't given those hints already. Added belatedly, as if he was still getting used to the idea. He was.] Colonel. [The covered stripes on his shirt were kept hidden to prevent him from getting shot by those looking to pick off an officer.]

[Water from a flask is poured into a miniature pot. Everything is boiled, he's not a fool, the chance for illness out here is greater than getting shot. The spider legs set on the edge of the fire, the pot on top to heat.]

Seems you've gotten separated from your unit.

No one is here! [Then she realizes her mistake, and peers out from behind the tree. She is a young woman carrying a worn bag. Her shoes are worn, and her clothes are worn. She's obviously been in the forest for a while.]

Please, I am no danger.

[Eugene takes the glass of water, sipping enough to quench the dryness in his throat before taking the bowl, muttering another thanks to Colonel Ives as he stirs it with his spoon. He brings a spoonful to his lips-

-and stops. The smell of the meat is - off. He's smelt it before - in Holland, after a round from a Sherman had detonated the gas tank on an occupied German halftrack.

He blanches, his mind racing as he sets the bowl down. He stands, self-consciously adjusting the canvas medical bag slung across his body.]

I'd best be on my way, Colonel. My apologies.

[Eugene stands now, brows knit in disapproval.]

You can't be out here, ma'am. Too dangerous.

[He glances around before making his way to her, hands relaxed at his side.]

I can walk you back to the company CP. From there, you need to get to Bastogne.

Edited 2016-07-31 05:48 (UTC)

[Eugene nods, rubbing his hands as he rests on the balls of his feet.] Seems I have.

[He looks around - there are no landmarks he can see, but the interminable fog certainly doesn't help with navigation.]

You have a map on you, sir?

*His expression is only technically a smile. Or possibly just a baring of teeth.* Leaving so soon? What, is the food not to your liking?

I could make you something else, if you'd prefer. I have steak, sausages, plenty of bacon . . .

[ooc: Don't worry about it, I had a major project due and really slowed down my responding everywhere. Am now playing catchup :]

Sit down before someone takes a shot at your head. How did you lose your escape and evasion map, soldier?

[Every Brittish and American soldier carried one of the cloth maps. They were often sewed into a lining of a coat, hidden in case of capture. For a minute, Jack considers shooting him for a spy, but he gives a man - more of a boy really had they been anywhere else - a chance to explain himself.]

I will not! I don't trust soldiers. Leave me and I will hide.

[The woman grips her bag tightly, and slowly backs away]

How long will you all be here?

[He swallows, his throat tight as he ducks his head, avoiding eye contact with Ives.] I'll be fine, sir. I- I need to get back to my company-

[And now he moves, trying to shove past Ives and make his way back to the exit.]

[Eugene clenches his jaw, but doesn't try to close the distance. Best not to agitate her.]

I can't say. Could be a week, could be a month, could be longer.

[Another quick glance around, and he spreads his hands in an attempt at supplication.] Miss, you can't be here. If the Germans see you-

[Eugene stares blanky at him - but moves out of his squat and sits, at least.]

Wasn't given one, sir.

[He spreads his hands in what one senses is his version of a shrug.] Division rushed us up here. Didn't even give us cold-weather clothing.

[He should know - he's seen plenty of trench foot cases over the past few days.]

*Ives is a lot stronger than he looks. He stands there like the other man is just a light breeze, utterly unmoved.*

[If the warning bells weren't going off at full-blast before, they are now. Eugene now backs away slowly from Ives, quickly glancing around the room to see if there are other exits open to him.

He's unarmed - standard procedure for medics in the ETO. That doesn't give him a whole lot of options. He supposes his medical satchel could work well enough if he flung it in Ives' face - but what good is a medic without his kit?]

If you tell me why you're leaving then perhaps I'll let you go, hmm?

[His response is terse as he continues to back away.] I need to get back to my company. Sir.

[His teeth are clenched, his hands tight on the strap of his medical bag.]

*He sighs.* Ah, a liar.

You know what's for dinner, don't you?

[Eugene's only response is a hard and level stare at Colonel Ives as he clutches the strap to his medical bag tighter.

It's hard to describe what's running through his mind right now. First and foremost is a powerful desire to get away from the fort and from Ives - barring that, he'll go down fighting.]

I'll take that as a yes.

Promise not to tell anyone and I'll let you go. I'll kill you if you lie, of course.

I ain't promising anything to you.

[Your move, Colonel.]

Not very smart of you, lad. The alternative is that you get eaten up, after all.

[Eugene doesn't respond verbally - but he continues to back up, away from Ives, searching for another way out.]

You're not going to be able to run away from me. I'm rather fast.

[ooc: project came back to haunt me. I think I kicked it out the door for real now.]

[An eyebrow bounces.]

You need to pick over those who came before. [giving a survival tip for free and instructed one of his men to pick over one of the nearby former friendly corpses. A coat is stripped off and handed over. The Colonel pulled a knife from his boot and cut off the ranking. From a hidden pocket in the lining he pulls out an EE map. The coat is handed over.]

Gloves in the pocket. [Oiled leather makes them waterproof. The lining of rabbit hair keeps the fingers warm without too much added bulk. The map is spread out on the forest floor.] We're here, give or take a few miles.

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Probably not good to eat his cooking . . .

At least it's organic, HEY-O

It might give you wendigo sickness, though . . .

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Eh, nothing a change of socks and some Motrin can't cure

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LOL

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Sorry for the delay! I had family over.

Sorry for the delay! I had family over.

Sorry for the delay! I had family over.

It's okay

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