sunburned | (no subject)

Laurence shook his head politely. He would have never described the other man's talk as little more than inconsequential rambling. Granby might have occasionally acted in a manner that might provoke underestimation, but Laurence knew better than to disregard his words as a friend and a fellow officer. "You said earlier that you had something to tell me once we were situated?"

"Not so much tell as give, honestly," says Granby, flipping open the lid of his bag and digging through it one handed, pausing to smile his thanks at the girl when she brought drinks.

"Here," he says, flipping through the book until he fingers the ink line drawing of Temeraire that he's been working on for a few days. He carefully tugs it free of the pad and holds it out to Laurence. "For you."

"Thank you. I--" Laurence sat silently for a minute, thoughtfully looking at the drawing. One fingertip traced the outline of a black wing. His expression remained far away and quiet. "Thank you very much, John."

The use of his given name makes Granby smile, just a little, and he sips his drink, watching as Laurence examines the drawing.

"Was it the wrong thing?" he asks, concerned by Laurences expression and silence both. "I do hope not, Will. And, if it was, just...give it back to me, alright? It's only a drawing and it's easily fixed."

"No. It is quite all right, John, truly. I am only afraid that I miss Temeraire a great deal more I sometimes like to admit." Of corse such a sentiment would have come as no shock to Granby, but to the rest of the island Laurence had given little sign of his distress over the matter.

"I think I understand that better than anyone," says Granby soberly, turning his glass with his fingers against the rim. In his sketchpad, what isn't Laurence or Julie is always Iskierka. He sighs and takes a sip of his drink.

"Let's speak of other things, rather than the things we can't change just be wishing them other than as they are."

"Yes." Laurence did not turn the drawing over so that it could not be seen, but he did very purposefully move it off to the side. There it stayed, just in the periphery, but no longer sitting there in plain view before him. "What shall we talk of, then?"

Edited 2012-08-30 03:02 (UTC)

Granby mulls that over for a minute, taking a sip of his beer in the mean time.

"What did you do today?" he asks. "You were..." He nearly says that Laurence was still asleep when he got up but thinks better of it. "I haven't seen you since this morning, after all."

"Very little, I am afraid," Laurence said with a rueful expression. A life of idleness did not sit well with him and it showed very clearly. "I was not meant for a place such as this."

Edited 2012-08-30 03:21 (UTC)

Granby supposes that it's typical of a lifetime spent as an Aviator, that he's managed to find some way to occupy himself relatively easily. At thirty-one, he's been an Aviator for twenty four years; he's used to making do.

"I understand, Laurence," he says, attempting to be reassuring. "But there's always the ocean - have you thought about taking to a boat?"

"Every now and again, but never very seriously." It was, however, something that he had thought of rather more frequently than he would have admitted. After all, he had not been a captain in the naval sense for quite some time.

"It might be the answer," he says, shifting his posture in the seat, slouching into the corner of the bench. "I hear there's a limit to how far you can go, but there's fishing and, surely, some pleasure in merely being on the water?"

Granby's spent his fair share of time on transports and, after all, he was stationed to Gibraltar. Still, love of the sea is something that he's never quite discovered.

"I suppose it would be something to pass the time," Laurence's mused, taking a sip of his beer. Unlike Granby, he kept his postures erect and gentlemanly, even in the midst of such a casual place. "Of course I shall need a crew of sorts."

"Aye, it would," says Granby and then raises both eyebrows, hiding his smirk behind the rim of his glass.

"I do hope you're not looking at me for that."

"I can think of no one else I would rather serve with," Laurence said, his voice entirely truthful even as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Even it would not truly be service as this place has, to the best of my knowledge, no navy."

And perhaps Granby's cheeks do colour at that, a touch at that. He raises his glass in a toast before he sets it down.

"As far as I know," he says. He's aware of the so-called ITF, though he has no interest in serving with it. "Still, I'm sure could press me into service. I can't promise to be any good, of course."

"I daresay I may have seen more able recruits, but none that I trust more," Laurence replied, smiling fully now. As a matter of fact, he had seen far less capable recruits than Granby many times before -the naval press gangs being less than choosy when times were hard and manning was low- and he would have never put Granby remotely near that category of men.

"Would you be willing, then?"

"And you can use me one-handed then?" he asks, which isn't exactly a 'yes' but definitely isn't a 'no', either. Because Laurence knows exactly what will follow, and Granby doesn't have to say it.

"I suppose there must be fellows must worse off already on ships?"

"I am certain that it will prove no great impediment, John."

Or so Laurence could only hope. It was always a shame when a man lost a limb, but at least it was better than losing a life and Granby at least seemed to be adjusting to it with ease and and good grace.

"I'm sure I'll make do," he says, grinning now. And, honestly, he cannot think of a better way to spend his time than pressed into service by Laurence, especially if it makes him smile. "And will I be required to call you 'Sir' again?"

"Only if you must, John." Laurence was still smiling even though he knew full well Granby's history regarding the term. "We are both of the same rank in any case."

He didn't exactly have the best history with the word where Laurence was concerned, although his insubordination had made up a relatively small fraction of their relationship.

"Surely you'd outrank me on a ship? In terms of capabilities, if nothing else. You've seen me at sea."

He had seen Granby at sea and he quite distinctly remembered the injury that had caused the eventual loss of his hand. So for a moment or two Laurence wisely said nothing before continuing. "I am certain you would be fine aboard the one of the ships available here."

"With limit possibility of disaster, you mean," says Granby and then he's still for a moment, his hand wrapped around his glass because, sometimes, Granby wants to touch Laurence so much that it all but kills him.

"I'd love to try it, if we can find you a ship to Captain."

"We may yet," Laurence said somewhat hopefully. He had seen the ships already sailing island waters. Surely they must have come from somewhere or someone and surely he would be able to get one eventually.