Idle Hands

"What 'n the hell are you doin' there?"

Garrison remained bent over his work for a moment, when he raised his head and turned it in his direction it took another second for his eyes to follow to meet the con's. "Knitting… Or trying to."

Casino snorted, but the frown darkening the Warden's features told the safecracker he'd better choose his next words very carefully. He cleared his throat… "Uh,... why?" Pushing off the door frame he strolled over to the table, being careful to stop just out of arms reach.

"The Devil finds work for idle hands..." The Lieutenant hadn't quite managed to avoid mocking the voice of the nurse who'd set him the task. When he spoke again he didn't even try. "Doctor Symington knits, you know, all of his own jumpers."

He coughed a little to try and keep from choking, and he pulled on his upper lip to smooth out the grin. "So, uh… I guess you liked one of his jum…his sweaters and now you'r makin' one a your own?"

Garrison rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration as his explosives expert finally took a seat across from him. "Therapy. It's supposed to be good for me."

Casino watched as the Warden got back to work. The misshaped square with the needles sticking out of it looked like one big knot to him but he could see that workin' on it made the Lieutenant use the hand and arm he'd been having trouble with. Still,... knitting? The Warden?

g

Usually the Army tried to keep their casualties in their own hospitals but when this one came in there was no room so he'd been sent here. They were told a bit about him, and the group that was with him, and at first, most of the staff was leery of dealing with them. When the injury, and how he'd come by it, had been explained the doctor decided that having the nurses see to all of his care might work out better for the patient. As she'd heard it the young man had gotten himself shot trying to rescue some children over in France and while the Huns had taken care of the wound they hadn't done it with a proper surgery. Instead, the barbarians had taken the bullet out while the poor man was awake, using the pain to try and get him to give them information they wanted. According to that very nice looking Italian, the American officer had remained silent through it all…and she could believe it. Her young patient was unfailingly polite and did almost everything she asked of him, but she could tell there was a core of steel under all of those good manners. Still, the doctor thought that it was the women's softer touch that was needed, rather than the rough handling he'd get from the male attendants, and she agreed, considering what he'd just been through.

When he arrived he required surgery to properly repair the damage to his shoulder. And blood… The poor man had lost a good deal of it before the men who were with him managed to get him back to England. The wound itself was healing nicely now but they were concerned at the loss of coordination in the young man's hand, and the stiffness in his shoulder. He assured them that he was fine, and that he could work on the problem back at his base if they'd just let him go. Doctor Symington, bless him, thought they'd best keep the patient for a few more days and get him settled on a proper course of therapy and they'd come up with just the thing.

She'd instructed him herself, right after she'd cleared his breakfast things away… Shaking her head a moment she wondered how he'd managed to grow into such a tall young fellow, he didn't eat much more than a bird… Standing over his shoulder she corrected his technique until he got it down. He was a quick study, and while he didn't show any real enthusiasm yet, she thought once he got some practice in and saw that he could make a good job of it, he might even begin to enjoy himself. She told him she would check back at the end of the hour to see how he was getting on and left him to it.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall… it was short of an hour, but she'd seen that man wander down the hall and into the patient's room and decided it would be a good thing to go down and make sure he wasn't causing him any grief, or, worse, that he hadn't helped him escape out a window. She'd been amazed when they'd been told a bit about who the men were and what they'd done in their pasts. Imagine using criminals! However had that nice young man, or that handsome Italian count, gotten tied up with such a group as that?

As she approached the door she could hear her patient's guest laugh and her pace quickened. She bristled as she laid her hand on the doorknob, instinctively ready to defend her charge and keep him from any ridicule that ruffian might come up with.

When she pulled the door open the men were sitting at the table in the corner of the room. Their heads were together, both of them concentrating, neither one aware of her presence in the doorway. The yarn and needles had been abandoned on the floor in the corner.

g

"No, that's not it. Let me have 'em again. See, you keep the deck mainly in your left hand, and you'r pulling the card back…you keep forgettin' that part. Then you kind a flick it off the top onto the other player's pile. You do that all with the thumb. But you got your right hand out there too, at the back corner. Now when you deal to the guy next to you, you slip the card off the bottom and slide it in between the card you'r giving him and the top a the deck. Watch, I'll do it again, real slow." Casino demonstrated one more time and then handed the deck over to the Warden.

Garrison took the cards, he needed a little help from his teacher to get them positioned just right, but as soon as Casino gave him a nod of approval he started distributing cards around the table. When he tried the maneuver the deck slipped from his hands and the cards ended in a jumbled pile right in front of him, a few slipped off into his lap. He laughed and gathered them up for another attempt… it was easier this time, his movements just a little more fluid…but he still flubbed the move.

Casino laughed with him. "Again."

She studied her patient a moment, he was intent on what he held in his hands, just a tip of his tongue showed between his lips, up in the corner of his mouth …. She smiled and backed out, closing the door quietly on the two of them. She could always collect the knitting things when she brought the lunch tray in.