A/N Hello, Hello; I hope you like my show. I hope, I hope, I hope, I hope; I hope you like my show (From "Information Please"; I couldn't resist!). A response to Tuttle's Carter's Ring Challenge and the 2017 Short Story Speedwriting Contest.

The day was lazy. You know what those days are like. A day when you can barely get out of bed. The ground seems to sap the energy right out of you, leaving you tired, grumpy, and apathetic. You feel listless with no motivation to even move. These days most often occur during the summer; that's one of the many reasons that Newkirk hated the heat. Not that he liked being cold, but warming up is much easier than cooling down when the air is still and warm. And doing a mission on a hot sticky summer evening? Not his idea of fun.

Newkirk looked back at Carter. His clothes were sticking to his body, covered in sweat. The two men were on their way back from a successful mission blowing up another bloody bridge. Sometimes Newkirk wondered if that was all the Nazis did; build bridges. It seemed like there was a new one every fortnight. And they always blew them up. Then they were rebuilt. Then they blew them up again. A never ending circle.

As they waited for a patrol to pass, Newkirk wondered how much longer Hogan's crew could keep up with the sabotage. Sometimes he thought they would never make it. Of course, Hogan always pulled them out of any tight spots. But there were some missions where the outcome looked set against the team. Newkirk shivered, and it sure had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature.

The muggy air hang heavy as they made their way back to the escape tunnel. The trees rustled as the saboteurs sneaked around in the grass. Newkirk ushered Carter down the ladder first, but as he watched him climb, he noticed something odd. There was a doofer* on Carter's finger … was that a ring? A wedding ring?!

Newkirk confronted his friend as soon as he hit the ground at the bottom of the tunnel. "What is that bloody thing on your finger, mate? Did you get married to a girl in town or somethin'?" Carter looked confusedly at his hands. "What do you … Oh! My ring?' Newkirk rolled his eyes. "No, I was wonderin' why you 'ad fingers. Of course your ring! Why do you have it? When did you get it? I've never seen it before."

"I uh, it's complicated." Carter received a glare. "I don't care mate. Spill. I want to know every last detail."

The young sergeant rubbed the ring unconsciously. "Well, I'm not married. This is really a gift from my family. You know how a ring is like a physical representation of a promise?" Newkirk nodded. "So," Carter continued, "This ring is like a promise to my family that I'll, well, that I won't die or forget them. I've had it for my duration. I guess you just haven't seen it since I wear gloves in the winter."

The Brit blinked. "But you're wearin' it on your left ring finger. Shouldn't you move it? And how can you promise that you won't die?"

Carter shrugged. "I'm not married, so why wouldn't I wear it on my ring finger? It's not like my wife is gonna get mad at me. For a while, I was wearing it for Mary Jane, but you know, she left me." Newkirk remembered. Carter had been so upset, he had wanted to leave. Thankfully, he didn't, but it was still fresh in Carter's mind.

"And believe it or not, this ring has actually stopped several attempts at seduction." Snorting, Newkirk shook his head in disbelief. "Someone tried to seduce you! I don't believe it." Carter glared at him. "Well you better believe it boy, cause it's true. If girls see you are wearing a ring, they will leave you alone most of the time. You should try it. Not that you'd want to, but if you ever did, then girls would leave you alone."

Newkirk shook his head again, this time in amazement. "Only you, Carter. Birds would never leave me dashing 'andsome face alone. They are drawn to it; like a moth to the flame. It is involutary. One look, and they're gone." Carter snorted in amusement, but he was not noticed by Newkirk as the Englishman was changing out of his blacks. Calling over his shoulder to the retreating Carter, he said, "But you didn't answer me second question."

"Kay, so um, I dunno, I just know I won't die. I had a …" His voice got quieter. "A vision. But I know I won't die in the war, so let's leave it at that. I don't really want to talk about it, allright?"

Newkirk started to reply, but then shrugged. "Okay, mate. Let's get upstairs and grab a cuppa." Carter looked shocked. "A cup of tea on this hot a night?"

He was playfully shoved by Newkirk. "You're right mate. Tea is the cure for all ills; even 'eatstroke."

Carter looked at his friend doubtfully. "I mean, I like tea. When I'm bushed it helps me fall asleep right away. But how can you drink a burning cup of water soaked in leaves when it is at least 90 degrees outside?"

"Dunno mate. 'ow can you drink water that has frozen chunks floatin' around in it?" The American was astonished. "You mean ice cubes? How could you not? When I was in London, they only served lukewarm water. It was digusting!"

The banter continued all the way back to the barracks.

*A doofer is British slang for something you don't recognize or can't remember the name for; literally a thingamabob or a whatchamacallit.