[It is a lovely day and Admiral Norrington is sat out on the steps to his apartment building as befits such weather, bent forward as though scrutinizing his own knees. Laid out across his lap is his uniform's coat, ripped during the battle dome debacle. Why has he come outside? The daylight will help his eye to guide the needle. His fingers,
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The man on the apartment steps catches his eye... as does his task. And his apparent frustration with it.
Some slight distance away, he clears his throat, standing at attention. A captain, proud of his station but aware he is outranked. A mix of authority and deference.]
Pardon me, sir.
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Very well. I grant you your pardon.
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Ha--h'm.
[He nodded politely again and gestured to the torn uniform.]
Would you like some help, sir? I have a decent hand with a needle and thread, sir.
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I apologize for the imposition, but I find that my fingers lack their accustomed dexterity.
[It is his undershirt that he offers, plain and pristine white. He has begun the job of mending it, but he has made slow progress. For a skilled hand it would be a simple matter. Compared to what his coat had suffered, the damage here is minimal.]
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[The words are sincere, and Horatio ducks his head again politely, taking the shirt. He sits, taking a moment to contemplate the tear, considering whether there is a way to better hide the new stitching. He decides against it, though, and continues where the man left off.
His long, thin fingers move the needle quickly but carefully, making small stitches, seeking to hide the new thread as much as possible.
It does not do for a captain to have a shirt with mending awfully visible... much less an admiral, so he does his best to make the repairs meet his own high level of acceptability.]
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You spoke the truth.
[He is, indeed, a dab hand with a needle. That leaves Norrington with the question -- what should he do now to repay the young man? A cup of tea perhaps. But first,]
Archie Kennedy happened by here not minutes ago. Was it you who sent him?
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[Even as he speaks, he is stitching carefully.]
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Though, I grant you, I am only able to speculate, sir, on Mister Kennedy's intentions.
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You are close to the boy, yes? Perhaps you may know of the most prudent way to frame my own apology. I should not have raised my hand. Had I my sword--
You understand.
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And, sir, if I may make a suggestion? The word "boy," sir... might make things worse. "Mister Kennedy" will suffice, if you would, sir.
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