Fic: King George [double drabble]
Feb. 2nd, 2010 02:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
splixTitle: King George
Author: Alex
Pairing/Character(s): Sharpe, Hakeswill
Rating: PG
Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sharpe_thinking prompt table, prompt #14
“Looks right tasty, don’t it, son?” The man in the smart red coat eased the cake from his bayonet and turned it idly in his hand. “Made fresh this very morning, it was. Bread of life. Says so in the Scriptures.” He smiled at Dick; one side of his face leapt like a Morris dancer.
Dick shrugged, trying not to show desperation as the fragrance of the cake drifted past his nose. “I reckon.”
“You’re hungry, ain’t you, lad?” The havercake trembled precariously between two dirty fingers. “A strong lad like yourself should be gainfully employed, eh? Or....” He dropped his voice to a confiding whisper. “Some reason you can’t get food? Hard times, mayhap?”
A rumbling in his stomach threatened to drown out the soldier’s voice, but Dick kept silent. He wasn’t about to tell this fellow he was wanted for murder just because he had an oatcake and a red rag on his back.
“Take it. Go on.”
Dick snatched the cake and gobbled it, catching the crumbs before they fell.
“Plenty more where that come from. Good King George provides, God bless him for a gentleman.” The soldier’s face twitched.
Warily, Dick followed him into the street.
*
My table is here
Author: Alex
Pairing/Character(s): Sharpe, Hakeswill
Rating: PG
Written for the
sharpe_thinking prompt table, prompt #14“Looks right tasty, don’t it, son?” The man in the smart red coat eased the cake from his bayonet and turned it idly in his hand. “Made fresh this very morning, it was. Bread of life. Says so in the Scriptures.” He smiled at Dick; one side of his face leapt like a Morris dancer.
Dick shrugged, trying not to show desperation as the fragrance of the cake drifted past his nose. “I reckon.”
“You’re hungry, ain’t you, lad?” The havercake trembled precariously between two dirty fingers. “A strong lad like yourself should be gainfully employed, eh? Or....” He dropped his voice to a confiding whisper. “Some reason you can’t get food? Hard times, mayhap?”
A rumbling in his stomach threatened to drown out the soldier’s voice, but Dick kept silent. He wasn’t about to tell this fellow he was wanted for murder just because he had an oatcake and a red rag on his back.
“Take it. Go on.”
Dick snatched the cake and gobbled it, catching the crumbs before they fell.
“Plenty more where that come from. Good King George provides, God bless him for a gentleman.” The soldier’s face twitched.
Warily, Dick followed him into the street.
*
My table is here
