(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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[will_scarlett]

Will should be upstairs in bed asleep, but he got downstairs so he's sipping his hot chocolate and watching Sam knit,

"What are ye makin', milady?"

[samstewart]

Sam looks up, then back down at her knitting, then up again with a bit of a grin.

'This will end up being a sock, eventually. Or so I hope. And I hope the chap who eventually gets this doesn't mind the odd stitch or so -- I'm not the best knitter, you see.'

[will_scarlett]

"I'm sure 'e won't mind, milady, long as its warm."

He curls up a little more in his blanket since the remnants of his flu are still making him feel too cold.

[samstewart]

'Never can go wrong with a pair of wool socks,' Sam agrees with a nod.

She takes a moment to make sure that she's on the right row, then turns her attention back to the fellow in the blanket. He certainly looks a bit rough round the edges, the sort of look that most people tend to have when they're on the ragged edge of some kind of illness.

'Are you all right?'

[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.)

[nitro_is_ace]

(Ooc: *stuffs fist in mouth to keep from deafening neighbors with OMG!SAM!squee*)

The woman who comes to enjoy the couch and fire is wearing a poppy, though it can be a little difficult to tell, what with all of the other patches and pins adorning her much-abused jacket. She also, more interestingly, has a cup of tea in one hand, and two wriggly doberman puppies cradled in the other arm, with a larger, adult Doberman following along behind.
"'Lo. Hope I'm not disturbin'." Says Ace, as she tries to get the dogs situated without dropping her tea.

[samstewart]

'Oh, not at all,' Sam says, pulling her feet back to give the dogs more room. 'Plenty of fire here for everyone, really.'

The paper poppy catches her attention quite quickly, even with the rest of the decorations on the woman's jacket.

'Is that...' She frowns a little, puzzled. 'If you don't mind my asking, what day is it here?'

[nitro_is_ace]

"November eleventh. At least, is for me. Dunno where other people are comin' from." Ace finally manages to get her tea down safely onto a solid surface and sets one of the puppies on the floor. The other, the little male, gets to burrow beneath her coat.

She ought to be making him sit out in the open, but he always looks so sad when she does that.

[samstewart]

'Armistice Day?' The puzzled frown gradually fades, leaving a wistful sort of expression. 'I see. It's the end of May where I am right now. If it's November here as well...well, I suppose I'd look rather odd if I went back home and brought a poppy with me.'

Her knitting slows a bit, as she ponders this.