(no subject)
Alnwick Castle isn't under siege, precisely. Under siege would imply the castlefolk being hunkered down while surrounded. The Americans gathered outside haven't got the numbers any more to surround the castle; they're just lined up along the road, their weapons trained on the place where their commander died. As for the castlefolk, they're on the battlements themselves for the most part. Quinn long ago purchased a shipment of blasters from Lando Calrissian, at Milliways, for defense against just such a situation as this.
It's not a siege, it's a Mexican stand-off. And into the tightly strung atmosphere comes the sound of engines.
The Americans' current leader's eyes narrow, and he says, without turning his head, "Ballantine! What the hell is that?"
Ballantine, a tall dark-skinned New Yorker on the left end of the Americans' line, peers through his binoculars. So do several of the castlefolk- the ones who dare to look away from the Americans, anyway. "Looks like... huh. Captain, looks like it's that Quinn guy."
The American leader snorts. "What's he think he can do now?"
"I dunno, but he's got someone else with him..." Ballantine frowns. "Huh. Where the hell'd he get a truck like that?"
"What?"
It's not a siege, it's a Mexican stand-off. And into the tightly strung atmosphere comes the sound of engines.
The Americans' current leader's eyes narrow, and he says, without turning his head, "Ballantine! What the hell is that?"
Ballantine, a tall dark-skinned New Yorker on the left end of the Americans' line, peers through his binoculars. So do several of the castlefolk- the ones who dare to look away from the Americans, anyway. "Looks like... huh. Captain, looks like it's that Quinn guy."
The American leader snorts. "What's he think he can do now?"
"I dunno, but he's got someone else with him..." Ballantine frowns. "Huh. Where the hell'd he get a truck like that?"
"What?"