"You know, it's been awhile since I 'ave 'ad wine, but this is nice. In fact, I've tried real Kentucky bourbon since the last time I've drank wine."
"American bourbon? How on earth did you manage to get that?"
"I take care of men 'oo 'aven't seen a woman durin' a long war, they offer me a lot a thin's an' sometimes I agree ta their offerin's. I am only 'uman after all."
"And a stunning one at that."
She laughs, looking into her glass after a pause, "Such a charmer, my fiancé was just like that."
Lebeau pauses, "Oh, I did not-"
" 'e passed away, I received his disks from a general who told me 'e knew 'im well. General Corden said 'e died when his plane was shot down over 'ammelburg."
"Oh, Chere, I am so sorry for your loss."
Catherine smiles sadly, "You know, I 'eard a rumor that 'e lived. 'e lived through the crash an' died just outside a little POW camp on a secret mission ta kill 'itler. Crazy, right?"
Lebeau feels his blood run cold, so he drinks more wine, "... Your late fiancé was a war hero, yet here I have to compete with my ex-wife who thought she could use me to get to my brother. Just for him to tell her he never had any interest in her."
She snorts into her wine and looks away to make sure she didn't spill it on herself.
"My thoughts exactly. Jean-Philippe is so clueless, though, it actually hurt her more trying to get him to notice her than it hurt me when she told me in the first place."
"Now, you see? Despite Barry 'avin' passed, at least 'e never tried ta get cheeky with any a my sisters. 'e was a good man an' would do anythin' for England," she takes a drag from her cigarette before she chuckles, "Apparently 'e 'ad enough a reputation that that rumor started in the first place."
"Yeah," Lebeau says quietly, wondering if Hercules was Catherine's fiancé, then he wondered if Newkirk knew and just didn't say anything.
Catherine offers her glass to Lebeau, "Are you alright?"
"Of course, I just was thinking," he says pouring her some more and then some more for himself. "He must've been a wonderful man to have such a lovely woman speak so highly of him."
"It's been almost three years, but yes, 'e was the love a my life… I'd rather not talk about it anymore."
Lebeau goes to apologize, but she gets comfortable in her spot again, "Did you lose anyone ta the war? I lost my little brother an' sister, my fiancé, an' my da, but what about you? I can imagine you lost friends at the very least."
"Oui, some friends here and there, but no one very close to me until I lost my father. I visited his grave this morning before we arrived. Pierré and the others helped plant his rose bush next to it."
"I figure that Petey 'as already told you about our father," she looks at Lebeau, just to earn a slow nod and he averted his eyes, "So, what was your's like?"
Lebeau pauses, swirling the wine in his glass before he looks up, "He was a great father. Always calm and relaxed, and he was so humble. I should've listened to him more instead of being so…"
" 'ot 'eaded?"
"I prefer to say passionate, but, yes. I was a hot head and always knew better and I just wish I hadn't had a fight with him the night before I left to join the Free French."
She's silent for a moment, "... Did 'e pass while you were in the camp?"
"Non, he died the day I was shot down, like it was fate. My brother sent me a letter when he found out I ended up in a camp and I just sat there, all alone, surrounded by men I didn't know and not a friend in the world until your brother came to join me almost two months later."
"... Petey was never good at makin' friends, but I'm glad he found you boys."
Lebeau chuckles, lighting himself a cigarette after he splits the last of the wine between their glasses, "Pierré didn't make friends, he became part of our family."
She smiles warmly at that and rests her head on the column next to her, "Did you all keep 'im out a trouble?"
"He actually kept us out of trouble, mostly the Colonel."
"Now I find that a little far fetched," she answers, laughing and trying to relight her cigarette at the same time.
Lebeau leans over to do it for her, "Its true, he kept us alive and on our toes."
"In a POW camp?"
"Some of our guards were trigger happy."
"I see," she rolls her eyes at him before grinning once again, "Well, I'm goin' to head inside once I finish this one, I think four is my limit with half a bottle a wine."
Lebeau just nods and looks to see how much his cigarette was left, "I think I'll head in the same time, my dear. I think I'm finally ready to get some sleep."
The two sit in a comfortable silence before they both pitch their cigarettes over the edge and Lebeau gathers up the wine glasses to take care of them.
"Ta, Louis... for spendin' some time with me. You're a sweetheart," she bends down just a bit and kisses his cheek before slipping inside.
He follows her inside and shuts the door, saying a soft goodnight before she hurries off to her room. Lebeau stands there for a moment more, then turns to head the opposite way to his room. He pauses, just for a second to look at the couch, not surprised to see it empty, but also wondering what he will see when he goes to the bedroom.
On top bunk lay Baker, who was still fast asleep, which Lebeau expected, but he didn't expect Carter sleeping on the bottom bunk, arm dangling off the bed to hold Newkirk's hand, who was sleeping on the floor. He didn't even fall asleep on the cot that was left out for Lebeau and the little Frenchman knew for a fact he wouldn't be able to move Newkirk without waking him, so he just crawled into bed and tried not to think about what he saw. There's only so much information a man can process after half a bottle of wine and the memory of a kiss on his cheek.
He closed his eyes and, before he could think of what this all meant, he was asleep.