out of uniform
“You went patrolling in a sweater?” Héloise repeated incredulously for the fourth time.
“Do you want me to go hypothermic?” James was well past defensive and barreling toward suicidal bullheadedness. “It’s dark, it’s warm, and no one was out tonight anyway, so it’s not like anyone saw me in it.”
“I haven’t seen Mr. George or Mr. Featherweight wearing sweaters on their patrols, have you?”
“Oh, come on! Bob’s inhuman that way, and Elliott’s a walking space heater. No fair making that comparison.” He fisted his hands in the ends of his sleeves with an expression that could be described only as ‘mulish’.
“A walking space heater, am I?” Elliot said thoughtfully, not looking up from his cards. “And how would you know this?” There was a long, considering silence while Héloise and Becky stared at a slowly-reddening James.
“. . . I fell asleep on you two weeks ago, after I busted the Dreadnaughts, remember?” He crossed his arms and glared at Elliott, who was still studying his cards with diligence. “And you drew smiley faces on all my fingernails before I woke up. I didn’t notice until I was halfway home-and I can’t imagine how I would have explained it to Clarice. She’s already suspicious of the whole martial-arts/over-time/Uncle F needed an extra hand excuse.”
“Maybe you should just tell her,” Becky said, then kicked Elliott under the table. “Come on, man, pick a card already. You’re enough in the hole that it won’t matter.”
“Mm.” Elliott laid down the queen of hearts with delicacy. “That evens things a bit, I believe.”
“Do you want me to go hypothermic?” James was well past defensive and barreling toward suicidal bullheadedness. “It’s dark, it’s warm, and no one was out tonight anyway, so it’s not like anyone saw me in it.”
“I haven’t seen Mr. George or Mr. Featherweight wearing sweaters on their patrols, have you?”
“Oh, come on! Bob’s inhuman that way, and Elliott’s a walking space heater. No fair making that comparison.” He fisted his hands in the ends of his sleeves with an expression that could be described only as ‘mulish’.
“A walking space heater, am I?” Elliot said thoughtfully, not looking up from his cards. “And how would you know this?” There was a long, considering silence while Héloise and Becky stared at a slowly-reddening James.
“. . . I fell asleep on you two weeks ago, after I busted the Dreadnaughts, remember?” He crossed his arms and glared at Elliott, who was still studying his cards with diligence. “And you drew smiley faces on all my fingernails before I woke up. I didn’t notice until I was halfway home-and I can’t imagine how I would have explained it to Clarice. She’s already suspicious of the whole martial-arts/over-time/Uncle F needed an extra hand excuse.”
“Maybe you should just tell her,” Becky said, then kicked Elliott under the table. “Come on, man, pick a card already. You’re enough in the hole that it won’t matter.”
“Mm.” Elliott laid down the queen of hearts with delicacy. “That evens things a bit, I believe.”