The Spirit of the Corps » Band of Brothers

12: A Regretful Sort of Smile

There was a chill in the air when Charlie burst out of the pub door and into the night. Even though it was nearing eleven o'clock it was still largely light out. The dark blue of the night sky was only just beginning to win its fight against the pale blue of the day, shoving it aside into soft yellows and fading oranges. The night was quiet, the noise from inside the pub muffled as the doors closed behind her.

Charlie hugged her arms around herself as the cold penetrated through her dress uniform jacket, sobering her up. She hadn't been drunk when she'd been inside, but she knew she hadn't been entirely sober either.

She took a deep breath in, filling her lungs with the chilly air in the hopes it would help her to feel more like herself again. A moment later she started down the path that would lead her home.

"Freckles?" called Talbert from behind her.

Charlie frowned and didn't turn around. If he thought he could attempt to charm her into accepting whatever olive branch he was about to extend he had read her all wrong. She didn't think she was a disagreeable person but he had hurt her, and she wasn't going to pretend that that was alright.

"Hey, Freckles, wait up!" he called again, his footsteps letting her know he was rushing to follow her.

Charlie considered speeding up herself in an attempt to avoid him but brushed the idea aside almost as soon as it emerged; he'd been to military boot camp and had already proven he could run rings around her. Besides, she wouldn't be childish about this. If he forced her to speak to him then she'd be a big girl and tell him head on that he'd hurt her feelings.

"Freckles?" he tried another time, slowing as he came up beside her. Infuriatingly, he fell into step with her easily, not even breathing heavily after he'd jogged to catch up. She was conscious of his eyes burning into the side of her face but refused to acknowledge him at all until he addressed her properly. "Charlie?"

His voice was smaller this time, less certain and more sincere. It was for this reason she finally relented and looked over at him, though instead of the charming smirk she'd expected to find him pulling on like armour, she found him looking utterly baffled.

Now that he knew he had her attention, he asked slowly, "What did you mean back there? About the roses?"

Charlie couldn't help it. She laughed. Of course he hadn't followed her out here to make sure she was okay. How stupid and naïve could she get? He just wanted her advice on how to carry on with Mabel. Of course he did.

She shook her head at her own mistake and the absurdity of it, sighed before giving in. "Mabs hates roses. So if you're going to get her flowers at some point then make sure they're not roses, and definitely don't buy her a single red rose." She smiled ruefully, turning away from him to look at the path ahead. When she spoke again it was only for the purpose of making Mabel happy. She deserved to be given the flowers that she liked instead of the ones Talbert had probably bought for hundreds of girls before her. "She likes purple tulips."

"Purple tulips," he repeated, nodding, likely making a mental note of this new bit of information.

"Purple tulips," she agreed. "They suit her, now that I think about it. She's not really a roses kind of girl."

"And what makes a girl a 'roses kind of girl'?" Talbert wondered. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he ambled along beside her, acting as though it had been his plan to walk her home all along, as though he wasn't only here because he was using her to get to her best friend.

Charlie stopped walking and turned to face him entirely. It only took him a moment to stop and turn and face her, too.

"Please just leave me be, Floyd," Charlie said, too tired with it all to beat around the bush. "I just want to go home, by myself, and go to bed."