talentsgirl | Appointment's Post

The Major had returned just yesterday from his small mission abroad. He took that afternoon and that night to recover -- to sit in his new apartment and painstakingly peer over his journal. Long moments to look at what had happened in his absence, with no Patrick Harper to report to him.

But today he strides stiffly (and half limps) his way to Molly Carpenter's apartment. With each step, he seems to be mumbling to himself. Palm on the pommel of his sword; his green jacket brushed down and neatly buttoned. Perhaps he even tidied the buttons, sitting on the edge of his basic cot.

His knocking on the door came across as too loud, to him. Too ungainly. Too thunderous. He tried again, softer. His opposite hand remained behind his back, hiding a gift -- a sprig of plant dotted with orchids. Scavenged from the jungle itself.

Edited 2012-04-21 14:24 (UTC)

Molly was one of those 'early to bed, early to rise' people - and as such was well into her day by the time Sharpe arrived. Unfortunately, it was a Saturday, and Saturday was a cleaning day. So when she answered the door, she was clad only in a pair of yoga pants and a cami, her hair up in a messy ponytail, not a stitch of make-up on her face.

Not wanting to bother with the peephole, she called out "Who is it?" as she approached the door, her hand already on the doorknob to open it. Who else could it be but Harry, really?

"Major Sharpe," he offered. His voice was cool and controlled until he suddenly thought to correct himself -- to be a little less formal: "Err. Richard, Miss Molly."

Richard? He'd - just been on a mission, hadn't he? Her thoughts tumbled over themselves, so that she barely did more than smooth down her hair before she opened the door, concern prominent on her features. "Hi! Is everything okay?"

...she may recollect the potential impact of her general attire in a moment. She may even care a moment after that.

His chin lifted and he tried for a smile and perhaps it was better for everyone involved that that smile mostly...failed. Derailed by the sight of some strange stretchy fabric'd trousers and -- good Lord, could that even count as a shirt?

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat.

"Ma'am," he stammered. "Miss. Uh, Molly."

He stared at a space above her head -- blinking as though to either banish the visual's memory or perhaps recall it once again. Either or. He couldn't really decide. "I only wanted to come apologize, lass. And to..."

He held out the wild-grown orchids and didn't dare watch her face for her reaction.

...he'd brought her flowers. A very natural bit of flowers too, looking as though it'd been plucked from something growing, the stunning color of them proclaiming that they were not natural forest-flowers.

Molly smiled with girlish delight, purely pleased at the present. "They're beautiful."

She reached forward to take them, mindful of the way he was staring just over her head. "Thank you, although I'm not sure what you have to apologize for, I'll take the flowers all the same."

"I saw them and thought of your wings." A beat. "Wing. Couldn't find a blue one to go with it."

A hard swallow as his flower-offering hand dropped to his side. He might have been standing before the Duke of Wellington for all his rigidity. Or perhaps King George himself. "And I fear I must apologize for what happened a few weeks ago."

Edited 2012-04-21 15:18 (UTC)

Ugh, the wings. She was still going to have to do something about that. But first she decided to have a bit of mercy on him, not imagining apologizing something that he found easy to do, and not willing to turn it aside as though it meant nothing.

"Well, you don't have to do it on my doorstep. Come on in."

And she moved towards the small counter which served as a make-shift kitchen, heading towards the pitcher of water she had there. On her way, she casually picked up a matching zippered sweatshirt. She set the orchids on the table before shrugging it on, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and not just a point of... consideration and mild awkwardness as she remembered the differences in time.

He suppressed his limp to something subtler. On a good day, Sharpe walked with a slight awkwardness in one of his legs -- but the battling he and Sparrow had run into on the mission had left him with a few things from which to heal.

The Major closed the door behind him and turned back to glance at that...new item of clothing. Zippers, incidentally, fascinated him.

"I certainly never intended to steal your friend from you, Molly. And I could tan the hides of the bast-- of those who made it happen."

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[ action, november 10th] - the underground city

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[written, November 24th] like I said on plurk no rush answering this <3

[written, November 24th] my hero <3