(Untitled)

[samstewart]

It's not Remembrance Sunday in Sam's world. That's about six months away, for her -- it's the end of May on the other side of the door. But there's plenty to be thinking about at the moment as it is. The British Expeditionary Force and their French allies are in trouble in France, and the call has gone out for any ship capable of braving the

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[not_a_hologram]

Al tends to gravitate toward people in uniform, when he doesn't know anyone else. Old habits, and all. He raises his cup of coffee by way of toast, as he approaches the fire.

"Evenin', miss. Can I get you anything?"

[samstewart]

Sam blinks a bit, then smiles. 'I think I'm all right for now, sir, thank you. I'd have a hard time eating or drinking anything at the moment without dropping stitches left and right.'

She lifts the sock, which is only the tiniest bit uneven around the toe, by way of explanation.

[not_a_hologram]

"Well, if you change your mind, or decide to take a break from the knitting, let me know." He takes a sip of coffee. "It's a lot easier for me to go over there and get something than for you to put that down and get up and go over and then come back."

[samstewart]

'That's most kind of you, truly,' Sam says, as she starts up knitting again. 'I've tried to promise myself that I won't get a cup of tea until after I've finished at least this bit around the heel. I've been putting it off for far too long -- and there are any number of chaps who could do with a pair of socks at the moment. Even my attempt at sock-making is better than no socks at all.'

(Her work isn't really as awful as she thinks it is, but vicar's daughters are almost expected to be excellent at these sorts of things. She's had to live up to quite a high standard.)

[not_a_hologram]

"You're fighting the good fight, miss. You do whatever you want." He nods solemnly. "What branch are you with, if you don't mind my asking?"

He has a vague idea, but doesn't want to guess wrong. It'd be rude.

[samstewart]

'ATS,' she replies promptly. 'I'm in the Mechanised Transport Corps. At the moment, I'm working as a driver for the police force, down in Hastings -- so many of the chaps have been called up recently that we're still trying to cope. Especially down on the South Coast.'

She sits forward a little in her chair, in lieu of actually holding out a hand to shake. 'My name's Sam, by the way. Sam Stewart. It's Samantha, really, but no one ever calls me that.'

[not_a_hologram]

"Sam." He smiles, nodding respectfully. A name he'll be able to remember.

"A good friend of mine's named Sam, too. It's nice to meet you. I hope things have been pretty quiet for you lately."

[samstewart]

'They have been for the last few days.' Sam looks down at her knitting briefly before looking up again. 'I don't know if that's such a good thing, though. Every plane the Jerries send to bomb us in Hastings is one fewer plane to bomb the fleet out in the Channel.'

[not_a_hologram]

"That's true, yeah. But there's nothing worse than being under fire--unless it's waiting to be under fire, and never knowing when it'll hit. It's not great either way, really."

[samstewart]

'Quite.'

A few more stitches are knitted, as Sam considers this.

'That's really why morale is so important, isn't it? Keeping it up, that is.'

[not_a_hologram]

"If you spend all your time thinking about what might hit you, you've already lost." He nods agreement.

"And here I am being rude. I'm Al, Al Calavicci. Used to be a Navy pilot, but I don't fly much anymore."

[samstewart]

'A pleasure to meet you, sir.' A slight smile, as she corrects herself. 'Al, rather. Quite a lot of pilots in Hastings at the moment. My boss's son is a pilot, as it happens -- flying Spitfires.'

[not_a_hologram]

"Spitfires... they're good planes." He grins. "They'll get your boys home safe again."

He doesn't want to ask too many questions, even though he has a lot of them. Military security, and all.

[samstewart]

'That's what I've been told.' The smile widens, with a touch of mischevious humour. 'Repeatedly. By any pilot who wants to tell you how frightfully brave he is -- and nearly all the ones I've met do.'

She shakes her head a little, still smiling. 'Though I suppose that's being unfair. They are quite brave. I only wish they wouldn't sulk so if a girl doesn't remind them of it every other minute.'

[not_a_hologram]

"I think you're just as brave. Maybe even more so, because nobody gets the praise like the pilots do--don't ever let anybody tell you you're not doing a brave and wonderful thing, because you are."

Very serious for a moment, before he grins again. "If you could do anything, anything at all, what would it be?"

[samstewart]

Her hands slow as he speaks, and two spots of colour appear high on her cheeks.

'Thank you,' she says, very sincerely and a little shyly.

And her grin returns at his question. 'Anything at all? Rather a difficult question, that. Do you mean more like something that I can't actually do, like...oh, I don't know, flying? Or something more like travelling to anywhere I wanted in the world?'