Jane smiled cordially, but she didn't blush. Only her husband had the power to make her do that. "Thank you, sir," she said lightheartedly. "John and I are incredibly humbled that you have all graced us with your presence. As he said, it is an absolute honor."
“It seems a bit.. worn,” he answered carefully. “If there was a storm, you could be endangered.”
The General nodded, and sipped his brandy.
A man across the table from Clinton—a man with a hooked nose and intimidating blue eyes, Captain Simcoe—spoke. His tone had a strange noise to it; the vocal equivalent of having cold ink drained down your ear. "It is. It is an honor to be invited," he spoke, he sounded insincere. Somehow, though, the other officials paid no mind at all.
“It seems a bit.. worn,” he answered carefully. “If there was a storm, you could be endangered.”
"Yeah," Marius sighed with a note of defeat. "I wasn't born much of a carpenter," he laughed jovially.
The General nodded, and sipped his brandy.
A man across the table from Clinton—a man with a hooked nose and intimidating blue eyes, Captain Simcoe—spoke. His tone had a strange noise to it; the vocal equivalent of having cold ink drained down your ear. "It is. It is an honor to be invited," he spoke, he sounded insincere. Somehow, though, the other officials paid no mind at all.
Jane grasped her hands tightly together to cover the shiver that crawled down her spine at his words. The captain certainly gave her an uneasy feeling inside.
Peter, who sat across from Jane, raised his glass. "To the brave Lieutenant André!"
“It seems a bit.. worn,” he answered carefully. “If there was a storm, you could be endangered.”
"Yeah," Marius sighed with a note of defeat. "I wasn't born much of a carpenter," he laughed jovially.
“I… could fix it,” he offered slowly.
The General nodded, and sipped his brandy.
A man across the table from Clinton—a man with a hooked nose and intimidating blue eyes, Captain Simcoe—spoke. His tone had a strange noise to it; the vocal equivalent of having cold ink drained down your ear. "It is. It is an honor to be invited," he spoke, he sounded insincere. Somehow, though, the other officials paid no mind at all.
Jane grasped her hands tightly together to cover the shiver that crawled down her spine at his words. The captain certainly gave her an uneasy feeling inside.
Peter, who sat across from Jane, raised his glass. "To the brave Lieutenant André!"
John's face crept with a blush. A smile broke his tight lips as the other men joined—Captain Simcoe more reluctantly— "Thank you…" John laughed softly.
“It seems a bit.. worn,” he answered carefully. “If there was a storm, you could be endangered.”
"Yeah," Marius sighed with a note of defeat. "I wasn't born much of a carpenter," he laughed jovially.
“I… could fix it,” he offered slowly.
Marius blinked. "That's a lot of work your offering to do," he pointed out.
Jane smiled warmly at Peter, then looked at John, her eyes telling him to continue.
Lionel shrugged. “Anything to get out of the house. And I could teach you, for the future.”
Jane smiled warmly at Peter, then looked at John, her eyes telling him to continue.
John cleared his throat, and stood, "Thank you all for attending. The military has brought so much insight and has.. enlightened me in so man ways." He laughed. "I remember when Clinton taught me how to load a rifle,"
Clinton laughed, "Oh, boy, I remember when you couldn't buckle a shoe properly," he spoke in a fatherly manner. It made John warm up at the familial atmosphere.
John raised his glass, "To the King. God bless him,"
Lionel shrugged. “Anything to get out of the house. And I could teach you, for the future.”
"I'd love that," he accepted cordially, handing him the satchel.
Lionel accepted the satchel, giving a small smile. “Alright.”
Jane smiled warmly at Peter, then looked at John, her eyes telling him to continue.
John cleared his throat, and stood, "Thank you all for attending. The military has brought so much insight and has.. enlightened me in so man ways." He laughed. "I remember when Clinton taught me how to load a rifle,"
Clinton laughed, "Oh, boy, I remember when you couldn't buckle a shoe properly," he spoke in a fatherly manner. It made John warm up at the familial atmosphere.
John raised his glass, "To the King. God bless him,"
Glasses raised around the table. "God bless the King," echoed around the room.
Lionel accepted the satchel, giving a small smile. “Alright.”
"Ready to feed the lambs?" Marius asked with a smile.
Jane smiled warmly at Peter, then looked at John, her eyes telling him to continue.
John cleared his throat, and stood, "Thank you all for attending. The military has brought so much insight and has.. enlightened me in so man ways." He laughed. "I remember when Clinton taught me how to load a rifle,"
Clinton laughed, "Oh, boy, I remember when you couldn't buckle a shoe properly," he spoke in a fatherly manner. It made John warm up at the familial atmosphere.
John raised his glass, "To the King. God bless him,"
Glasses raised around the table. "God bless the King," echoed around the room.
John sat down, and tipped his glass back to drink.
Jane smiled warmly at Peter, then looked at John, her eyes telling him to continue.
John cleared his throat, and stood, "Thank you all for attending. The military has brought so much insight and has.. enlightened me in so man ways." He laughed. "I remember when Clinton taught me how to load a rifle,"
Clinton laughed, "Oh, boy, I remember when you couldn't buckle a shoe properly," he spoke in a fatherly manner. It made John warm up at the familial atmosphere.
John raised his glass, "To the King. God bless him,"
Glasses raised around the table. "God bless the King," echoed around the room.
John sat down, and tipped his glass back to drink.
Jane didn't drink the same liquid as the men. She'd poured herself water, and she touched her stomach gently, thinking of Roo.
"Tell me," Captain Simcoe spoke, "How far in is your wife?"
"Couple months," John replied, a proud glint shining in his eyes. "We're already thinking of names,"
"A boy, I hope, for his father to turn into a fine soldier someday?" Clinton chortled, wiping a napkin over his lips.
Reluctance flickered across his face. "I'm hoping to indulge my child in the humanities. Painting, poetry… if I'm influential quite enough, lawyership, maybe," John wished.
Jane put her hand on top of John's and smiled reassuringly. "Yes. Of course, nothing against you, General," she remarked with a polite smile.
"Not at all," Clinton replied good-naturedly.
Captain Simcoe spoke up, "A shame he will not be shaped into a brave man, then." He sipped his drink, "As his father. Of course," every word from his mouth tasted like a threat.
Jane's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure he, if indeed it is a boy, shall be as brave a man as John no matter what he chooses to do," she defended.
John laughed tightly, and changed the subject, "Clinton, I heard rumors regarding positions," he suggested excitedly.
Henry Clinton's eyes lit up, "Yes! Your promotion, good John! To ah, head of intelligence!"
The blood drained from John's face—that was such a high position. Nearly better than an aide-de-camp. And every captain would report directly to him. "Me?"
Disgust twitched on the edges of Simcoe's lips.
Jane was practically glowing with pride.
"Sir, I don't know what to say," John laughed, "It's.. It's an honor, sir–"
"You know deserve every benefit that comes with it." Clinton chuckled. "A fine soldier, you. And Peter," he addressed, sipping some alcohol, "I'm promoting you to lieutenant,"
Peter was taking a sip of his drink when the General addressed him. He nearly spit out the liquid. Quickly, he swallowed it and spoke up. "Thank you, sir! I won't disappoint you!"
Jane caressed John's hand in her own and smiled encouragingly at him.
"Mhm. Deserving positions for deserving men." Clinton spoke fondly of the boys.
John returned with a loving expression.
"Was this an afterthought, sir?" The foreboding Captain at the table asked. His voice was calm enough that the older man didn't catch on to the fury behind it. Sociopathical.
Jane was able to see through the tone to his words. "Captain Simcoe, I beg your pardon, but are you threatening my husband?" She tensed anxiously. She'd known men like him. Plenty of men like him.
"Why would I do something so cruel?" Simcoe answered smoothly, with an offset smile.
John and Clinton were quiet.
Jane pressed her lips together. "That's what I would like to find out. Do you mind enlightening us, sir?"
Simcoe sipped his drink with practiced coolness. John gave his wife an anxious look– what was she doing? If she overstepped, it could cause him this promotion.
"I feel your pregnancy is testing your logic," the Captain spoke.