Radar wasn't quite sure what it was about Hawkeye that made him want
to grin; yes, he'd always known that the Captain was a hoot and a half to
be around, and Radar had always admired him for his quickness of wit and
quickness of tongue, even to the point of envy. But now the attraction was
mildly shifted. Hawkeye's presence made Radar feel warm and slightly
giddy. Even as he stood accused by Father Mulcahy of being a demon, he
couldn't hold in a giggle every now and again when Hawkeye opened his mouth
and uttered a stream of the pure essence of delight. The warm fuzzies were
reflected and multiplied by B.J., and so, when he had the chance to move,
Radar parked himself between the two to bask in their light and coddle his
wounded shoulder. Bantlehoff too seemed comforted in this position, and
sprawled out over Radar's head like an iguana on a warm sea-sprayed rock,
chirruping quietly as Radar stroked his injured tail.
"Radar, young ward, I warn ye now, look thou
At him, that man, that priest who lately dragged
Us hither and now proceeds to speak against us;
He saw you, he saw me as well, and I
Well fear what he might have in mind for you,
For me, and for our comrade Qotenmatch,
If e'er he has seen him, too. But you,
Now you they ask for your perspective on
These things; speak well, craft well thy Pooka art."
Radar was taken half-by surprise by the question, having been listening more to Bantelhopp than to the conversation. He stammered for a moment, then grinned a tiny grin, "Um, could you repeat the question, sir?"
Potter put his hand firmly on his desk and leaned forward. "Has anything /strange/ happened to you, Corporal?" he demanded roughly.
Radar paused a second, slouched, then bucked himself up, thrusting his little chest out in a humorous show of pride. "Yes. It's all very true, what Father Mulcahy's saying. Colonel Blake's always been like a father to me, and now he's going to be like my father, except a vampire, now."
Hawkeye lifted a hand and opened his mouth to speak. Radar turned to him, "And I'm still breathin' and stuff because Colonel Blake didn't ever kill me, he just vampired me without, but I'll get dead soon, and then I'll be like him.
B.J. was the next to attempt to object. Radar cut in, "And I can go outside in the daytime, of course, because all the vampire stuff only really kicks in after I get dead. Colonel Blake said so."
Potter sat down, his brow furrowed as all the information Radar was giving him sank in. "Rad--"
"Yes, sir, I do think blood is real great stuff to drink, now, too. Why else would I waste perfectly good grape nehi on a practical joke? And I just haven't drunk any yet because... I'm not hungry."
Hawkeye's eyes widened. "My god, he really is sick..." he cracked.
Radar snorted and giggled intensely. He was halfway through his conniption when he felt something press itself into the realm of the warm feeling Hawkeye was emitting. His lips pursed in concern, and Hawkeye's feet came down off of the table almost instinctually at the clerk's gesture, fully expecting Radar's next words to be, "Uh-oh."
But there weren't any choppers coming. Radar looked up and across the room, his eyes moving as if on auto-pilot until they met the cool, unimpressed gaze of Father Mulcahy.
"Radar." Mulcahy's voice came sternly, hitting Radar like a splash of cold water. "Tell us the truth."
The changeling's knees wobbled under the force of the guilt that dropped on him like a ton of bricks. Why was he implicating Henry in something that he hadn't done? Why was he trying to pass himself off as a vampire? Why was he so intent on sowing confusion and mischief everywhere? Didn't he know that that kind of behavior could tear apart a camp like this? Especially with all of this queer stuff going on?
Radar steadied himself on the edge of Colonel Potter's desk, then bent his neck down so nobody could see the tears of guilt welling in his eyes until they slipped down his cheeks.
Mulcahy, feeling his will jostling the monster's nature, became gentler, stepped forward and put one hand on Radar's shoulder. The other hand he raised and gently lifted Radar's chin so that he made eye contact once more. "Tell us the truth, Radar."
~
"Radar, young ward, I warn ye now, look thou
At him, that man, that priest who lately dragged
Us hither and now proceeds to speak against us;
He saw you, he saw me as well, and I
Well fear what he might have in mind for you,
For me, and for our comrade Qotenmatch,
If e'er he has seen him, too. But you,
Now you they ask for your perspective on
These things; speak well, craft well thy Pooka art."
Radar was taken half-by surprise by the question, having been listening more to Bantelhopp than to the conversation. He stammered for a moment, then grinned a tiny grin, "Um, could you repeat the question, sir?"
Potter put his hand firmly on his desk and leaned forward. "Has anything /strange/ happened to you, Corporal?" he demanded roughly.
Radar paused a second, slouched, then bucked himself up, thrusting his little chest out in a humorous show of pride. "Yes. It's all very true, what Father Mulcahy's saying. Colonel Blake's always been like a father to me, and now he's going to be like my father, except a vampire, now."
Hawkeye lifted a hand and opened his mouth to speak. Radar turned to him, "And I'm still breathin' and stuff because Colonel Blake didn't ever kill me, he just vampired me without, but I'll get dead soon, and then I'll be like him.
B.J. was the next to attempt to object. Radar cut in, "And I can go outside in the daytime, of course, because all the vampire stuff only really kicks in after I get dead. Colonel Blake said so."
Potter sat down, his brow furrowed as all the information Radar was giving him sank in. "Rad--"
"Yes, sir, I do think blood is real great stuff to drink, now, too. Why else would I waste perfectly good grape nehi on a practical joke? And I just haven't drunk any yet because... I'm not hungry."
Hawkeye's eyes widened. "My god, he really is sick..." he cracked.
Radar snorted and giggled intensely. He was halfway through his conniption when he felt something press itself into the realm of the warm feeling Hawkeye was emitting. His lips pursed in concern, and Hawkeye's feet came down off of the table almost instinctually at the clerk's gesture, fully expecting Radar's next words to be, "Uh-oh."
But there weren't any choppers coming. Radar looked up and across the room, his eyes moving as if on auto-pilot until they met the cool, unimpressed gaze of Father Mulcahy.
"Radar." Mulcahy's voice came sternly, hitting Radar like a splash of cold water. "Tell us the truth."
The changeling's knees wobbled under the force of the guilt that dropped on him like a ton of bricks. Why was he implicating Henry in something that he hadn't done? Why was he trying to pass himself off as a vampire? Why was he so intent on sowing confusion and mischief everywhere? Didn't he know that that kind of behavior could tear apart a camp like this? Especially with all of this queer stuff going on?
Radar steadied himself on the edge of Colonel Potter's desk, then bent his neck down so nobody could see the tears of guilt welling in his eyes until they slipped down his cheeks.
Mulcahy, feeling his will jostling the monster's nature, became gentler, stepped forward and put one hand on Radar's shoulder. The other hand he raised and gently lifted Radar's chin so that he made eye contact once more. "Tell us the truth, Radar."
~