captainhornblower | [luceti]

[And other circumstances, Horatio would have laughed as well.

The role suited Archie, really. Doing what was right, even if it strayed outside the boundaries of what was allowed. Had the Malnosso put him in the role of one of the Merry Men, he'd have laughed quite a bit at the whole situation.

But there was something sobering about the pain in his hand. Archie had caused no outward further damage at least, and Horatio hoped that the sore muscles would either mend themselves or the pain be easily hidden by the time he and his dear friend could talk properly again.]

I'm quite out of my depth, trying to swordfight against Archie.

[Worrisome as the situation might have been and ache as his hand did... the pride in his voice was obvious.]

You shouldn't have to.

[just how far would these stories go? She suddenly found herself trying to remember what the Sheriff's fate had been at the end of the stories]

Hopefully we can merely... keep out of one another's way for as long as this lasts.

I'm so sorry, Horatio...

Certainly no cause for you to apologize, Miss Jilly.

[...you are such a difficult man, sometimes, Horatio]

[she smiles just slightly, amused] That's not what I meant.

...Do you need help? With your hand, I mean. I might be able to. [she was tiny, but that was something she thought she could manage]

I can manage it, Miss Jilly. Thank you, though.

I know you can. I just...

I'd like to help, if you'd let me. [also, he's one of the most stubborn people she knows. She's half afraid it'll get infected just because he doesn't want her or Archie to see that it hurts.]

Edited 2011-09-29 00:45 (UTC)

I just need to finish wrapping it.

It got hit, and my weight fell on it. Nothing more severe.

[It had been cut, but Archie had seen to taking care of that, at least.]

And you're wrapping it one handed. [it wasn't really fair to use against him, seeing as she'd snuck in, but she'd seen him struggling with it] Two hands might make things easier. Or even three. [she holds up her tiny hands with a smile]

[Thinking, thinking, thinking.

And a sigh.]

I can manage, Miss Jilly. I would not want to impose.

[her head cants to one side]

I'm not going to fight you over it or anything...but you know I wouldn't offer if I wasn't perfectly happy doing so, right?

[He's now trying not to smile.]

I think the bandages are almost as wide as you are tall, Miss Jilly.

[she laughs] If I could escape being buried by bedsheets, I think I could pull tight a bit of fabric. Even like this.

[Wait for it. Wait for it.

His hand is out.]

If it were my left, I could manage, but not my sword-hand.

[for a moment, she actually stares. For all that she meant every offer, she hadn't actually expected him to go along with it.

Very quickly, however, she realizes that reacting is only going to make him take his hand back. Scrambling up to her feet with a nod, she moves to stand by his offered hand, her expression mostly neutral.

In her current state, each of his fingers is nearly twice as long as she is. She could easily have stood on his upturned palm and barely disturbed him with her weight.]

It doesn't help when one is hurting. You can't move the way you want to if you're trying to keep from bumping it.

[tiny hands taking hold of the bandages already in place, she glanced up at the captain.]

I... am not quite as capable with my left hand.

[But he is adjusting the bandages that are already starting to slip.]

I burned my hand some time ago. Before I came here...

[A very, very faint smile.]

When I... finally had time to wrap it-- it was on my right hand...

I needed Mr. Bush's help.

[she tugs the fabric of the bandages carefully, like straightening the sheets on a bed. Her gaze flickers between his hand and his eyes as he talks, and she nods when he pauses]

I'm right-handed, too. I...think I might go a bit crazy if I couldn't use it. I can't draw at all with my left.

[once the first layer is firmly in place, she reaches to place a tiny palm under one of his knuckles, gently pressing upward in a suggestion that he raise his hand]

What happened? Before you came here, I mean.

A... a shot was fired from shore.

[He obeys the silent command and raises his hand slightly.

It doesn't hurt to tell her. If William returns, he will. If he doesn't, Archie may well at some point.]

Exploding shell. Its fuse was still burning when it hit the deck of the Hotspur. If it went off... we were all dead.

There was nothing to lose.

[she'd ducked under his hand as he began to explain, pulling the bandages with her to wrap around to the other side, but she stops to look at him uncertainly when she reappears. Her tiny brow furrows as she tries to make sense of the unfamiliar terms.

A shot. A...bullet? Except that wouldn't have landed on the deck. Or, if it had, it wouldn't have been burning.

So a...canon ball. Or something like it. A bomb waiting to explode.

But how did that equal a burned-

Oh.

Oh.

Her eyes widen and, for just a moment, the bandages go slack.] Horatio...

With your hands?! [Admiration might come later, but her first reaction is one of horrified sympathy. Her hands were her life. And his hands...were they anything less?]

There was no other choice.

It was take that risk or have my entire ship destroyed.

[He frowns slightly.]

I would think most men would have run.

[she could understand that there was nowhere to go...but it didn't sound like a situation where reason was the ruler of the day]

The French to one side, set on killing us. The sea to the other. There was nowhere to go...

and that shell would have killed everyone on board.

[there's a pause where it seems like she might protest. She wants to say that, nowhere to go or not, either the enemy or the sea might have seemed like better options than a bomb on the verge of destruction. She wants to say that it would take a great deal of courage, choice or no. Or even that she doesn't believe there's ever a point where there's no choice at all. But she doesn't. Everything she's learned about him these past few months and the quiet insistence he makes at removing his own agency convince her to let it slide, silently acknowledged.

Instead, she reaches up to place her palm against his and gently pulls his hand back down to rest on the bookshelf so he can pull the bandage back around for the second pass.]

But it healed okay?

["Because of your bravery, sir. Bravery that should not go unacknowledged."

"Don't presume to tell me I was brave, Mr. Bush."

He was too short with his lieutenant, and he knew it. The man had meant no offence, but to call him brave when he had done the only thing possible to do...]

Still have a slight scar, but the burn itself healed.

[He moved his hand to assist.]

...Thank you. For the help.

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