Skipper once again found himself in the spotless hallway that led to Blowhole's office, though this time, he was walking. If there was one thing he wasn't going to give Blowhole the satisfaction of seeing, it was him afraid. Well, maybe he could hijack a car or something; Kowalski had always said he constantly defied probability.
"Escapee's here, doc." One of the lobsters reported.
"Bring him in!" Blowhole shouted as if he'd been waiting on the edge of his seat since the day Skipper was brought in. The lobster opened the door and Skipper was roughly shoved into the office, his chains doing nothing to help his battle to stay upright. Blowhole wasn't taking any chances.
"Was that you doing a victory dance I heard from outside?" Skipper asked sarcastically.
"Ah, your bizarre penguin humour to the last," Blowhole smirked, "I really did admire you as an adversary, but you were inevitably going to lose. Still, so half-baked an escape plan was not something I expected from you."
"Yeah, well, it was worth a try," Skipper answered keeping up the sarcasm.
"Ah yes, but by attempting to escape…"
"You've told me three times, I get it already!" Skipper snapped.
"Hey, doc, someone to see you!" A lobster shouted from outside, "It's important!"
"Well I don't care if its Faraday back from the grave, I'm busy!" Blowhole shouted, although as his attention returned to Skipper his temper was automatically regained, "See, this is what I hate about running a prison camp. You're once in a life time, gloat at your arch enemy in his last few hours, and General so-and-so comes along and demands…"
"It's Doris, doc!" the lobster elaborated. As quickly as Blowhole had switched from furious to annoyed, he donned a strangely obedient expression, like a puppy dog sighting his master.
"You'll have to excuse me Skipper, this is rather urgent," Blowhole rushed towards the door, "Coming!"
"Well how about that," skipper muttered. Head of the POW camp that probably gave Buck Rockgut nightmares, and he comes running at the whim of his sister. Skipper had to say, it was slightly offending to his status as an arch enemy that Blowhole ranked his sister higher.
"On your feet!" A lobster shouted, bursting into the room. Skipper had barely acknowledged the lobster's presence when he was grabbed by his chains and dragged out of the office through the hallway and into the courtyard. He fortunately managed to stumble through the muddiest puddles before he was knocked down again, though by the time he arrived at the barracks he had two large welts on his forehead from his later attempts to walk, one from Blowhole's riding crop and the other from the butt of one of the lobster's rifles.
Outside the barracks they stopped, and Skipper was stood to attention in front of Blowhole, and a not too bad looking blond. Blowhole had the most fake looking smile plastered over a grimace.
"What's wrong, Blowhole? Supply train didn't bring you enough ammo for my firing squad?" Skipper cracked.
"Do me a favour and make a run for the fence," Blowhole snarled, though one look from the woman beside him and he was silenced, "That came out wrong, sorry," He apologised, "Why don't you go back to the house; I'll take you shopping for that dress in a few minutes," without a word, though the woman seemed to be studying him intently the whole time like a car she was thinking of buying, a somewhat mystified expression on her face.
"I don't see anything special about him." The woman commented.
"There really isn't," Blowhole replied, "He's just a trouble maker. It would be far more practical to simply…"
"Your jokes aren't funny." The woman commented, seemingly unaware of just how genuine the threat was, and with an amused smile in Skipper's direction, Skipper hoped she'd decided she liked him, walked back towards the office along the boards set down by the lobsters. Skipper let out a low whistle. No, she certainly wasn't that bad looking.
"Get into the barracks before I come to my senses." Blowhole muttered before following the woman back to the main hut.
Skipper could see a familiar silhouette pacing the room through the dirty windows as he approached the wooden structure. That guy worried way too much, "Hey, Kowal-Smith, you'll never believe the dame I saw…"
"You idiot!" was the first thing shouted at him, followed by a slap, which left Skipper stunned. However, he quickly regained his composure.
"What was that for?!" Skipper exclaimed.
"Trying to escape?! Really?!" Kowalski snapped, "Listen, if it wasn't for…!"
"Smith!" the door opened and a guard tossed Kowalski a clean uniform, "You have been given special permission for a hot shower. You have half an hour before your inspection and the doc informs me that if he finds so much as a speck of dust you will be shot. If I may say so," The guard gave him a wink, "I'd give anything to switch places with you."
"So would I." Kowalski grimaced as soon as the guard was gone.
"Wait, what have you done?" Skipper scowled, "You haven't sold out…"
"No Skipper," Kowalski snapped, "I agreed to go on a date with Doris, the girl you just met outside, in exchange for your life."
"Then what are you complaining about?" Skipper looked at him blankly, "You've been here over a year. I've only been here twenty four hours and I'd do anything to get five minutes with a dame."
"Well this might not be something you'd understand," Kowalski lectured, and then overcompensated for his outburst with a haughty kind of control, only just stopping short of clicking his heels, "But I have principles." He sat down on his bunk, reluctantly inspecting the suit the guard had left, "Dammit, Skipper, I might just make a run for the fence to get out of this." Skipper sat down next to him. He honestly didn't understand the principles his ex-second in command talked about, he never had and probably never would, but whatever they were, they meant a lot to him.
"I'm…" Skipper's fingernails dug into his wrist as he forced the single word out, "Sorry." There was no reply, but he could tell Kowalski was keeping his face turned to hide the grin on his face, "There I've said it. You'll never hear me say that again." He still got no reaction for several seconds. Then Kowalski turned his head, and true to Skipper's estimate, he was smiling.
"No I don't think I ever will." He laughed dryly, knowing full well what his friend had done. He'd never understand what Skipper had against apologising, it was unpleasant but not that bad, but Skipper hated it almost as much as Blowhole.
"What is it with you and this Doris you keep mentioning?" Skipper asked, his curiosity defying his common sense.
"She thinks I'm a celebrity." Kowalski replied wearily shaking his head, before replacing it in his hand.
"Aren't you?"
"Not. So. Loud, for the last time!" Kowalski hissed, looking up sharply to glare at him, "Yes, in the scientific community, I am, but if Blowhole found out…"
"Yeah, you wouldn't last five seconds under that kind of interrogation." Skipper replied as Kowalski pulled on his boots to follow the guard out to the showers, "Well, enjoy your date." Just as the door was about to shut, Kowalski stopped, fixing him with a solid glare.
"If you make me do this again, it won't be Blowhole you have to worry about."
