The Legends Still Live On
Bogen Sechundzwanzig: Besuche
Kapitel Ein: Ein Besuch von fräulein Darjeeling!
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It was yet another day that had begun aboard the HMS Ark Royal that housed Saint Gloriana High School. And from the looks of it, it was fit to be a day adorned with pure, unadulterated Britishness.
Because, after all, rainy days were a quintessentially British thing, as was driving on the wrong side of the road, on the left-hand side versus the right-hand side. It was called the 'right' side for a reason, but that reason was mysteriously lost upon the British.
Hence, because of the typically-British weather being experienced, a particular handful of members of Saint Gloriana's Arts of Warfare programs ate breakfast together indoors. Each had a full English breakfast at their disposal, the one high-point in the day so far thanks to the dreary weather.
The table used to break the fast was only seating four people at the present moment: Arthur, the English Spitfire ace; Douglas, a Scottish mate serving directly under Arthur by way of helping to get his Spitfire up in the air; Assam, the resident intelligence gatherer and the gunner of the school's Churchill; and Orange Pekoe, the petite yet deceptively strong loader for the British heavy tank.
"So…" Assam began as she twirled a sausage in her hand with her head resting against her other hand propped up on the table. Arthur tried to keep a straight face as a number of lewd quips about her actions with the sausage came to his mind. But Assam looked in his direction and grew a knowing and smug grin that convened she could already tell the Englishman's thoughts before they even left his mouth. She chose not to call him out on such dirtiness, however, for the sake of maintaining the proper image so ingrained into her from her time in Saint Gloriana. "I can't help but notice that besides Darjeeling, we're notably missing one of our own from this setting. Pray tell, where's your little servant, Arthur?"
Douglas set his fork down quickly, and perhaps a little forcefully, and flung his hands up into the air in a fed-up gesture, followed by a shaking of his head as he brought one of his hands to his forehead. The comment about being a servant to Arthur annoyed the Scotsman, even though it was not meant for him. The idea of being one of Arthur's servants ticked him off every time it was brought up due to preconceptions of the English seeing themselves superior to the other people of the United Kingdom. Being Scottish, Douglas easily fell back into despising the English members of the British school whenever those preconceptions were brought up again, and he knew that Dennis, as a Northern Irishman, felt the same, even if he was better at concealing it.
Arthur, however, remained blissfully unaware of his Scottish comrade as he smiled his usual upper-class smile. "Alas, I don't believe he may grace us with his presence this day," he responded.
"Oh?" Orange Pekoe tilted her head in curiosity. "Why is that?"
"What is what?" the group heard Darjeeling's voice join in. The Englishwoman herself took a seat at the table with her own full English breakfast, fully tuned into the conversation.
"Dennis won't be joining us today because he's come down sick," Arthur divulged with ease. "A rather nasty case, I must say, considering he was told that he had to take the day off."
"Huh," Assam huffed in comprehension before she consumed the sausage she was twirling in her hand before. She then spoke up again to finish her thoughts. "Well what do you know…"
"Aw, that's too bad…" Orange Pekoe kindly gave her condolences.
"MMM!" Darjeeling muffled a cry of epiphany as she began to shuffle through her bag lying against her chair's leg. The cry was muffled due to her having food in her mouth, and it was rude for a lady to talk with her mouth full. She swallowed before responding again. "I've got just the thing for an affair as serious as this!"
As the Churchill commander shuffled through her bag, the others stared at her, occasionally shooting each other raised eyebrows of confusion. Whatever it was that Darjeeling was up to, it was destined to be something they wouldn't forget, solely because it was Darjeeling.
"Ah! There they are!" the Englishwoman said in triumph as she rose again, this time holding a couple of nurse outfits and a red cross hat. "Now which one of these would be best for nursing Dennis?" The glint in Darjeeling's eye said she was going to very much enjoy this while she could.
Douglas slammed his head on the table and left it there, unwilling to look at the insane Englishwoman any longer. Arthur kept a blank face as he mentally checked out. Assam and Orange Pekoe awkwardly looked at each other as they held a silent conversation debating Darjeeling's sanity, or lack thereof.
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Later in the day, up in his flat, Dennis sneezed violently, sending the thermometer in his mouth out like it was a projectile. The Northern Irishman groaned in a sickly manner and made the great effort to get out of bed to find the thermometer.
"Why me…" he grumbled as he bent down to pick up the thermometer. The digital screen on it read 38 degrees Celsius, and Dennis grumbled in irritation at it before tossing it aside and walking back to bed. "It figures that I'd be the one to come down with something and have to miss training."
As he collapsed back onto the mattress, he continued vocalizing his thoughts, "But at least I can stay away from Darjeeling in that regard, so I guess being sick's not all bad…" He put his hands behind his head and began to nod off. "It's not like she has enough free time to visit, anyway…"
A few seconds passed before Dennis's eyes shot back open as he came to a realization: Arthur would've more than likely already divulged that the Northern Irishman had fallen sick, and if Darjeeling was there to hear it, then it was practically guaranteed that she would drag them all to visit him.
He climbed up out of bed and went over to the window overlooking the street just to see if that was the case, and lo and behold, it was: Darjeeling, Assam, Orange Pekoe, Arthur, and Douglas were all walking in the direction of the doorway to the dormitory building, with the Churchill commander leading the way with quite a bit of pep in her step.
'Oh, joy…' Dennis thought sarcastically as he flopped back onto his bed. 'I get to spend the day with an insane, aristocratic, and clingy Englishwoman, another Englishwoman that fancies herself as a new 007, another Englishwoman whose great kindness wouldn't be enough to counter her master's ludicrousness, an aristocratic Englishman that I want to see thrown about like a ragdoll to wipe the smugness from him, and a Scotsman that would just as soon make that wish come true… Fuck my life.'
About half a minute later, his door burst open unceremoniously to make way for the 'visitors' he was expecting.
"Dennis! How do you do, old chap?" Arthur greeted with all the flare he could as he and the other Brits piled into Dennis' flat. It was made obvious that only Arthur and Darjeeling were of such mindsets: the others – Assam, Orange Pekoe, and Douglas – were all notably less enthusiastic about the visit as they shook their heads in exasperation at Arthur and Darjeeling.
"Heeeeey…" Dennis groaned a response as he lifted up an arm to acknowledge them without actually having to get up from his bed. He then let said arm flop back down.
"By the Queen, you poor thing!" Darjeeling observed the Northern Irishman with sympathy as she set her bag down. "This must be horrible for you, Dennis!"
Knowing that he wasn't pointedly ignoring him like he was for Darjeeling, Douglas shot Dennis a look saying, 'This was not my idea in the least bit, so don't even think of trying to blame me.'
The Northern Irishman shot a return look saying, 'No shit, Sherlock, I can bloody tell!'
During this time, Orange Pekoe came up to Dennis' bedside. "Here, this will help a bit," she lifted her hand that held a wet towel the petite loader had somehow prepared when no one was looking. She then set it on the Northern Irishman's forehead.
The effect was near-instantaneous judging by the relieved moan Dennis let out. "Thanks for that…" he gave his thanks to Orange Pekoe, who took it with a graceful nod.
Almost immediately after, a large thump was heard at the door, and accompanying that thump was a flurry of voices that all collectively resembled cries of "Lady Darjeeling!"
Everyone within the flat looked toward Darjeeling, some in confusion and others, like Dennis and Douglas, with annoyance. Their irritation in the blonde Englishwoman was always high, but this was ridiculous.
"Ah, that's not good," the Churchill commander noted, oblivious to the looks of annoyance. She lifted a finger. "Please give me a moment."
She then began to walk over to the door, but not before Douglas snapped and broke to the door in a sprint. He flung it open and yelled, "GET THE BLOODY FUCK OUTTA HERE!"
"Gah!" That was enough to cause everyone behind the door, which was a sizable number of Darjeeling's followers, to instantly scram. "Okay, okay, I get it!" Because nobody there wanted to be on the receiving end of an enraged Scotsman. "That's not gone well!"
Satisfied, Douglas held his hand out to Darjeeling without even looking at where she was behind him, knowing she had a slip of paper saying 'NO VISITORS' that would be of use to them all. Darjeeling handed it over, ignorant as to what he just did to chase off her followers, and Douglas taped it to the front of the door before flipping it shut and walking back with his chin held high.
"Aaaaand we're good," Douglas informed everybody else. Dennis gave a thumbs-up while Assam looked down to hide an amused grin and Orange Pekoe looked on as she shook her head at the Scotsman's antics. Arthur simply smiled as if nothing had happened, while Darjeeling remained oblivious.
"Now, Orange Pekoe, I could really use your help for this!" Darjeeling insisted to the ginger-haired Englishwoman as she reached into her bag. She then pulled out a couple of outfits, and after sorting through them, pulled out the first one, which was a modern-day nurse's outfit. "Should I go with modern…" She then held up another more elaborate outfit that was still recognizable as a nurse's outfit, though it was notably older in style. "Classic British style…" She then held up one last outfit, which was even more antique in style than the classic British nurse outfit. "Or Asgardian royal palace healer?"
"Where did you even get that last one…?" Assam muttered in confusion at the unconventional and completely unexpected Viking-era outfit. "And more importantly, why…"
"Well?!" Darjeeling eagerly awaited an answer from Orange Pekoe. "With which outfit should I nurse?!"
"Er…" Orange Pekoe stumbled over trying to find something to say that wasn't offensive yet got her point across. "… I think it's more the thought that counts."
That didn't satisfy Darjeeling, who scoffed in disappointment at Orange Pekoe's indecision and turned to Dennis himself. "Dennis, what say you?" she asked, holding up her outfits again. "Don't hold back!"
"It's not about holding back…" the Northern Irishman muttered. Dennis knew Darjeeling would simply choose which one to wear if he said nothing, so he decided to humor her. "I personally think you're just fine the way you are now."
Darjeeling dropped her outfits as well as her jaw, before she grinned excitedly. "Brilliant!" she commended. "This is why I would've missed you had we not visited: your judgment is absolutely brilliant!"
Orange Pekoe politely smiled at Darjeeling's giddiness, while Assam made a show of using one of her fingers to make fake gagging motions at how easily the Churchill commander became infatuated with something. Douglas absently wondered if he could slip out and go home to escape the madness that was the six-strong group of Saint Gloriana's most elite warriors, while Arthur smiled that same smile again as if nothing had happened.
Everyone was pulled from their thoughts by the clock in the corner going off, and out of instinct they looked to it. It was four in the evening by now, as the clock showed.
"Blimey, it's that time again!" Darjeeling noted with a grin. "It's tea time!"
And because they were all British, that meant everything stopped for tea time. Within a handful of minutes, everyone present was set up at the table sipping some tea in an annoyingly elegant manner.
"So, I found out an interesting tidbit of news recently," Douglas began as everyone drank their tea. "You all know Ooarai, right?"
A round of affirmative mmm-hmms went around. "Of course," Arthur and Orange Pekoe both acknowledged verbally.
"Well, from what I heard over their news network, apparently they nearly suffered a fire in one of their hangars," the Scotsman divulged.
"A fire?" all three girls asked in surprise. Darjeeling set her teacup down to pay her full attention to the news Douglas relayed.
"Yup," the Scotsman nodded.
"How did that come about?" Arthur asked without a trace of surprise on his face.
Douglas smirked in amusement. "Cockroach infestation," he revealed, and he then crossed his arms to watch the mayhem unfold.
Everyone remained silent and blinked once, twice, thrice, before Assam spoke up with bewilderment in her voice, "A cockroach infestation?"
"I kid you not," Douglas chuckled at the utterly stupefied looks on everyone's faces, including Arthur's, who normally wasn't fazed by much of anything.
"How?" the English Spitfire pilot himself leaned forward to ask, still disbelieving.
"Haha, alright," Douglas chuckled before he shook his head to refocus on retelling his tale. "Well, Arthur, you know their Squadron Leader?"
Arthur nodded. "Yeah, what about Erich?" he returned.
"And you are also aware of Black Forest Peak's Biology Club, right?" the Scotsman continued. The German school's Biology Club had at times been on the front page of the news because of some of their creations getting out of hand, with the most recent occasion being about a year ago when the zombies they had created ran amok.
Arthur remembered seeing that occasion in particular on the news, and his brain started turning. "Yeeeees…" he slowly replied as he tried to make sense of what Douglas was implying.
The Scotsman grinned amusedly again. "Well, let's just say that Erich adopted Black Forest Peak's method of extermination," he continued. He then looked around to watch as understanding started to dawn on everyone.
Arthur thought a bit before he smiled again as if nothing had ever happened. Soon enough, Assam also understood what Douglas was implying and let out a wave of hearty laughter. Darjeeling held a serene smile while Orange Pekoe shook her head and lightly pushed Assam for her unruly laughter.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the Churchill gunner repeated as her laughter started to die down. "I shouldn't be laughing, flamethrowers are serious business." A few chuckles still surfaced from her, though, from the tale's extreme absurdity factor.
Orange Pekoe shook her head in disapproval before turning to check on Dennis. Her eyes widened when she took in the Northern Irishman's state: even worse than before. She quickly stood. "Someone help me with Dennis!" she requested as she moved to his side.
"Ah, shite!" Darjeeling cursed at her inattentiveness. It wasn't often one heard her curse, meaning she took the job of looking after Dennis quite seriously. "How did I forget?!"
"Just help me get him to lie down!" Orange Pekoe commanded as both Englishwomen quickly but carefully dragged Dennis back to his bed.
Back at the table, Assam, Douglas, and Arthur looked on. Silence reigned for a bit before Assam broke it. "Is it just me or is Darjeeling taking this a lot more seriously than I expected?" she wondered.
"And yet she still forgot that you're not supposed to give hot tea to someone with a high fever…" Douglas noted with irritation.
Assam glanced over to the Scotsman. "Well why didn't you say anything, then, oh great Doctor Douglas?" she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm near the end.
"Because Orange Pekoe would've noticed before it got too bad," Douglas smoothly answered. He then crossed his arms. "And lo and behold, she did."
Assam shook her head and flipped the bird to the Scotsman, unable to find a suitable verbal retort. Said Scotsman merely grinned victoriously, knowing he won the argument. Arthur merely watched them with that same smile, as if nothing was out of the norm. And truth be told, this was rather normal for the British six-some.
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Later, Darjeeling wheeled a cart to Dennis' bedside, stacked high with various medicines, both boxed and bottled. "I got all these medicines for you!" the Churchill commander enthusiastically revealed as she waved to said stack of medicines. "Take whichever you like!"
"Ugh," Dennis groaned, irritated with Darjeeling. "Taking this many, I'm as likely to grow a third arm as I am to get cured…"
Orange Pekoe came beside Darjeeling and took the medicine cart in hand to push away. "Hey!" Darjeeling briefly cried out in objection.
Orange Pekoe merely shook her head with a tolerant smile. "Too much medicine is even worse than no medicine," she factually explained. "Besides, most medicines are supposed to be taken after meals, to help with ensuring the medicine goes to work."
At that last comment, Darjeeling's eyes lit up in utter delight. She whipped out a cooking apron and immediately rushed off to the kitchen.
Dennis realized a little too late what the sight of her putting on an apron meant. "Oh, bollocks!" he cursed in alarm that Darjeeling was going to cook.
Orange Pekoe subtly backed away, as if knowing that she was going to get yelled at for implanting the idea in Darjeeling's head to cook. By the time Dennis tried to find her, she was already out of sight.
The Northern Irishman next stood up and turned to find Douglas. "Help meeeee!" he practically begged to be spared from Darjeeling's notoriously awful cooking.
Douglas merely shook his head with an amused smirk. "Uh-uh, I already ate," he responded, denying the request for help as well. He was clearly staying out of the way when it came to suffering through Darjeeling's cooking.
"Oh, you bloody traitor!" Dennis barked back at the Scotsman. By that time, everyone else in the flat besides Orange Pekoe and Darjeeling was gathered together by the bed, because they could all hear how Darjeeling was murdering everything in the kitchen.
The sounds coming from the kitchen led Douglas to cross his arms in seeming finality. "Well, Dennis, it's been nice knowing you," he commented with an amused smirk, referring to the inevitably horrible cuisine destined for the Northern Irishman. "I'll let everyone important know that you won't be returning to class for the foreseeable future."
"Come on, mate!" Dennis resorted to begging again. "Help me! I'm not even that sick!"
"Finished!" Darjeeling's voice was heard decreeing across the flat. "Thanks for being so patient, Dennis!"
Dennis sucked in a breath out of fear for whatever creation of Darjeeling's would be forced down his throat and rip him apart from the inside out. He slowly turned around, bracing for what he might see.
What awaited him was a maliciously disgusting dish of… porridge? "Huh?" he blinked in confusion.
The dish Darjeeling prepared was porridge. Just regular, run of the mill porridge. And it actually smelled like porridge was supposed to smell like. It looked absolutely delectable.
"It's just… some normal… porridge?" Dennis tried to comprehend how in the world Darjeeling managed to actually cook something without mutilating it with her own touch. It was stupefying to him and everyone else besides Orange Pekoe for some reason. The Northern Irishman would've guessed her lack of surprise was due to her being so familiar with Darjeeling's antics that nothing the Churchill commander did surprised her much anymore.
"Of course it is," Darjeeling replied as if it was obvious, taking a seat at the bedside at the same time as Dennis did. "By the Queen, it's not like fish and chips are the best thing for recovery." She then took a spoonful of porridge. "And this was actually Orange Pekoe's idea to make porridge. Her expertise was of great value."
Dennis sent an eternally grateful look in Orange Pekoe's direction, to which the Englishwoman nodded in response with a smile.
"Well then…" Darjeeling lifted up the spoon. She then lightly blew across it, and Dennis raised an eyebrow. Douglas and Assam began to snicker slightly at what was about to happen, while Arthur smiled again as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "There, now say ah!"
The Churchill commander spoon-fed the first bite to the Northern Irishman, who soon understood what was happening: Darjeeling was being clingy and dramatic again. Dennis rolled his eyes but took the spoon-feeding without complaint, knowing that nothing could stop Darjeeling from her antics. Without drawing the Englishwoman's attention with the action, he also flipped the bird to Douglas and Assam for their snickering.
"There we are," Darjeeling noted with satisfaction and got another spoonful. She then tried to spoon-feed Dennis again, but this time, the spoonful was intercepted by Arthur. When the Englishman tried to bite down, Darjeeling pulled the spoon away just in time. Arthur tried again, lurching his head forth to the spoon, but Darjeeling thwarted him again by pulling the spoon further out of reach.
"Arthur, did we not already have lunch for ourselves?" Darjeeling turned to the Englishman to reprimand him.
"Bah, starviiiiing…!" Arthur moaned out a response, dissatisfied with being denied sustenance.
"No. Now get," the Churchill commander finalized before she shooed away the Spitfire ace with her hand.
"Uuuuugh…" Arthur groaned like a child denied his favorite toy, even dragging his feet like one as he walked away.
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Later, night fell, and it came time for the British style of nursing to come to a halt.
"Thanks for coming, mates," Dennis saw everyone off at his door, still looking somewhat sick but not as bad as before. He meant his words: he had actually enjoyed the company, which was more than he was honestly expecting when they all showed up on his doorstep uninvited.
"Be sure to properly cover up when you sleep," Orange Pekoe offered a last bit of advice, while the others waved farewell. Dennis nodded in acknowledgement of the petite Churchill loader's expertise.
"Oh, one last thing," Darjeeling began as she approached. She then handed over a large take-out bag to Dennis. "I decided to make by my own hand some fish and chips, roast beef with omelet, and eel jelly just for you! Be sure to eat it all up once you feel better! I made lots!"
That was when Dennis took everything he thought earlier back, at least with regards to Darjeeling. 'So close… So close!' he agonizingly thought. He was so close to avoiding having to consume any Darjeeling-made food that day. So close, yet all for naught.
"Right…" Dennis eventually spoke as he put on a fake smile and took the take-out bag. "Well, thank you all, and goodnight." He then beat a hasty retreat back into his flat, slamming the door shut with restraint.
"Well…" Arthur started as the five-strong group began to walk off to their own flats. "That was…"
"That was fun!" Darjeeling finished with a bright smile, still oblivious to the effect of her cooking.
Assam snorted in the most ladylike manner possible at Darjeeling's persistent enthusiasm. "What, were you enjoying yourself back there?" she asked with amusement.
"We should all wash up when we get home," Orange Pekoe advised the rest as they continued on. "We might not have caught his illness, but it's better to take precautions to avoid such-"
The petite Churchill loader was cut off when Douglas let out a loud sneeze. That got everyone to turn toward him. "Bollocks…" he muttered as he sniffled a bit.
The others then took notice of Darjeeling, whose eyes flared into life again at the sight of Douglas apparently catching sick. The Scotsman himself noticed it as well, but was further lost on why he was being stared at with such intensity. "Um… What?" he asked, sensing that he was the current center of attention, and not in a good way.
Darjeeling approached him, and he realized what was about to happen as he started sputtering, "Uh-wait, wait, I'm fine, I'm fine-" Darjeeling took him by the wrist and started dragging him. "Wait, wait, WAAAAAIIIIIT!"
The other four remaining stared as Darjeeling took off dragging Douglas by the wrist off to who knows where. Arthur, Orange Pekoe, and Assam all glanced at each other before looking back to where Darjeeling was heading off towards with Douglas forcibly in tow. All three came to the conclusion that Douglas was going to be looked after by Nurse Darjeeling, and they all shivered in horror at the thought of what was likely to happen in that case.
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Part of Projekt Jägermeistern.
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The author doesn't claim to own "Girls und Panzer" or any other references made. "Girls und Panzer" belongs to Actas. Any references made belong to their respective owners.
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