Irene, in case you don't recall, was a dark-haired woman of considerable
beauty, and was currently dressed in shining Asiatic garb that clashed,
somehow, with her features. As she released her grip on Joles' hand, she
stepped out of the shadow of the helicopter, her mouth slightly open as she
looked down the hill into the camp.
"It's quite as lovely as I thought," she stated softly, in an awed, kind tone expressing either true admiration of the place or profound sadness as to its expected state of disrepair. She shut her mouth into a dreamy smile, then turned her attention toward the M*A*S*H officers.
"Colonel Blake," she greeted, "It's good to see you, again." Joles came around to her side and put a hand on her shoulder, looking pointedly at the others gathered there.
Irene reached back and put a hand on his. "My husband and I," she continued, "Were hoping that you would have wanted to spend some time with us. We were quite disappointed that you felt you had to leave."
"Quite disappointed," Joles repeated, smiling and matching his wife's polite manner as he looked over to the as-yet unnamed young woman who'd flown them there. She wore a simple set of green army clothes, the shirt unbuttoned to show the standard-issue beige t-shirt underneath. Joles wore a similar set of clothes, but his shirt was fastidiously buttoned and tucked in the proper places, and he wore a Colonel's insignia on his collar.
The disheveled-looking fellow stood fidgeting at the side of the helicopter as the pilot tucked her hands behind her back and jauntily headed toward the group. "Should I get the bags, sir?" he asked.
Joles shook his head, "Hopefully it won't be necessary, Sparky. I'll tell you when it becomes so."
"Sparky?" Radar repeated, knowing that he'd heard the voice somewhere, before.
Sparky stopped fingering the handle of the suitcase, leaving it alone at his Regnant's order and putting some distance between himself and the helicopter. "Hey, yeah," he grinned in realization, "It's the Radar. How's it going?"
Radar smiled faintly, "Never better," he said, punctuating his statement with a nervous giggle.
Colonel Potter finally stepped forward, saluting briefly before addressing the visitor. "Colonel? Is this just a social visit, or is there something the M*A*S*H 4077th can help you with?"
"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Colonel, though thank you for your hospitality. Our business is with Colonel Blake."
Hawkeye hastened to catch up with the pilot, and wheeled around her, naturally taking up a defensive stance against the creepiness that generally surrounded the newly arrived group.
"Well, then, why don't we all head down to the Officer's Club? I'm buying. We'll talk about it over a round of drinks."
Joles smiled, pulled his wife a centimeter or two closer in an affectionate gesture of marital bliss, "No, that won't be necessary. We'd probably better talk to Henry alone, if that's alright."
"Yes," Irene rejoined, "That WOULD probably be best."
Father Mulcahy's face was displaying a magnificent pallor by that point. He gripped Radar's arm tightly and pulled him subtly backward, trying to make his panicked mind stop racing and produce some kind of cogent thought. How many of these things WERE there???
"More than that," the voice whispered harshly to his foggy estimates, "Much more than that."
"No," Hawkeye grinned widely, "Come on, I insist. There's a little nighttime tradition in these parts called the Happy Hour. We'd be delinquent in our duties not to corrupt you with our native customs."
Colonel Traveneau stood quite still, but tilted his head to nod fondly at Hawkeye, "Very well. Sparky, go on ahead. Megan, you can join them, if you have the inclination." He smiled more warmly and turned to speak to Irene, "And you-- you can go with them, too, if you'd like. I, for my part," he looked back straight ahead at Colonel Potter, "Need to speak to Henry. Alone. You can arrange that, can't you, Colonel-- ah, Colonel--"
"Potter, sir," Sparky piped up.
"Colonel Potter, thank you, Sparky."
"You're welcome, sir."
"Indeed. Well?" Joles turned his attention back to Potter.
Potter had seemed about to object, but he paused. It occurred to him, out of nowhere, that it might be best to leave the matter be, and make a swift retreat. He simply nodded, "No problem, Colonel. Padre, Radar, Klinger--" he said, then, with a tone of warning as Hawkeye opened his mouth and lifted his finger in concern, "Pierce! Let's go."
Hawkeye followed a few steps, then turned around, "Henry--" he started, looking back to Joles and his entourage with concern.
Henry looked no less distressed, but he straightened himself and tried to look less than terrified as he nodded briefly.
A split second later, the pilot, Megan, skipped by the group and grabbed up Hawkeye's arm in hers, swinging him around and almost forcibly dragging him along the path. "So, tell me about this happy hour, hm? Is it always so late at night?"
Sparky nervously searched for a final sign of approval from his Regnant's face before, having found it, he ran off down the hill after the group.
"So," Henry laughed a bit, rocking back and forth nervously, as he found himself feeling rather alone up here with the Seneschal and his wife. "Funny weather we're having, huh?"
~
"It's quite as lovely as I thought," she stated softly, in an awed, kind tone expressing either true admiration of the place or profound sadness as to its expected state of disrepair. She shut her mouth into a dreamy smile, then turned her attention toward the M*A*S*H officers.
"Colonel Blake," she greeted, "It's good to see you, again." Joles came around to her side and put a hand on her shoulder, looking pointedly at the others gathered there.
Irene reached back and put a hand on his. "My husband and I," she continued, "Were hoping that you would have wanted to spend some time with us. We were quite disappointed that you felt you had to leave."
"Quite disappointed," Joles repeated, smiling and matching his wife's polite manner as he looked over to the as-yet unnamed young woman who'd flown them there. She wore a simple set of green army clothes, the shirt unbuttoned to show the standard-issue beige t-shirt underneath. Joles wore a similar set of clothes, but his shirt was fastidiously buttoned and tucked in the proper places, and he wore a Colonel's insignia on his collar.
The disheveled-looking fellow stood fidgeting at the side of the helicopter as the pilot tucked her hands behind her back and jauntily headed toward the group. "Should I get the bags, sir?" he asked.
Joles shook his head, "Hopefully it won't be necessary, Sparky. I'll tell you when it becomes so."
"Sparky?" Radar repeated, knowing that he'd heard the voice somewhere, before.
Sparky stopped fingering the handle of the suitcase, leaving it alone at his Regnant's order and putting some distance between himself and the helicopter. "Hey, yeah," he grinned in realization, "It's the Radar. How's it going?"
Radar smiled faintly, "Never better," he said, punctuating his statement with a nervous giggle.
Colonel Potter finally stepped forward, saluting briefly before addressing the visitor. "Colonel? Is this just a social visit, or is there something the M*A*S*H 4077th can help you with?"
"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Colonel, though thank you for your hospitality. Our business is with Colonel Blake."
Hawkeye hastened to catch up with the pilot, and wheeled around her, naturally taking up a defensive stance against the creepiness that generally surrounded the newly arrived group.
"Well, then, why don't we all head down to the Officer's Club? I'm buying. We'll talk about it over a round of drinks."
Joles smiled, pulled his wife a centimeter or two closer in an affectionate gesture of marital bliss, "No, that won't be necessary. We'd probably better talk to Henry alone, if that's alright."
"Yes," Irene rejoined, "That WOULD probably be best."
Father Mulcahy's face was displaying a magnificent pallor by that point. He gripped Radar's arm tightly and pulled him subtly backward, trying to make his panicked mind stop racing and produce some kind of cogent thought. How many of these things WERE there???
"More than that," the voice whispered harshly to his foggy estimates, "Much more than that."
"No," Hawkeye grinned widely, "Come on, I insist. There's a little nighttime tradition in these parts called the Happy Hour. We'd be delinquent in our duties not to corrupt you with our native customs."
Colonel Traveneau stood quite still, but tilted his head to nod fondly at Hawkeye, "Very well. Sparky, go on ahead. Megan, you can join them, if you have the inclination." He smiled more warmly and turned to speak to Irene, "And you-- you can go with them, too, if you'd like. I, for my part," he looked back straight ahead at Colonel Potter, "Need to speak to Henry. Alone. You can arrange that, can't you, Colonel-- ah, Colonel--"
"Potter, sir," Sparky piped up.
"Colonel Potter, thank you, Sparky."
"You're welcome, sir."
"Indeed. Well?" Joles turned his attention back to Potter.
Potter had seemed about to object, but he paused. It occurred to him, out of nowhere, that it might be best to leave the matter be, and make a swift retreat. He simply nodded, "No problem, Colonel. Padre, Radar, Klinger--" he said, then, with a tone of warning as Hawkeye opened his mouth and lifted his finger in concern, "Pierce! Let's go."
Hawkeye followed a few steps, then turned around, "Henry--" he started, looking back to Joles and his entourage with concern.
Henry looked no less distressed, but he straightened himself and tried to look less than terrified as he nodded briefly.
A split second later, the pilot, Megan, skipped by the group and grabbed up Hawkeye's arm in hers, swinging him around and almost forcibly dragging him along the path. "So, tell me about this happy hour, hm? Is it always so late at night?"
Sparky nervously searched for a final sign of approval from his Regnant's face before, having found it, he ran off down the hill after the group.
"So," Henry laughed a bit, rocking back and forth nervously, as he found himself feeling rather alone up here with the Seneschal and his wife. "Funny weather we're having, huh?"
~