All Things Nice » Band of Brothers

53: Scarecrows

"Say, Duckie," George cut in, puffing on a cigarette that he didn't bother removing, instead deciding to speak around it, "what d'ya say to darts?"

Posey laughed. "You're challenging a sharpshooter to a game of darts?"

George held his hands up in mock-surrender, the picture of a menace. "Hey, if you're scared of losing just say so."

Posey rolled her eyes, laughing all the while. "Don't try to be clever, George, it doesn't become you."

"George and Buck just got two packs of smokes out of Babe and Toye," Perco explained, shaking his head at George's shamelessness. "Got him all excited."

Posey turned and caught sight of both losing parties, looking disdainful as they listened in. "Now, Heffron I can understand," Posey began, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. "But you, Joe? Really?"

"Ought'a be ashamed," George agreed.

"Where'd you get that?"

Posey's eyes were drawn to the table next to theirs by the frostiness in Cobb's voice. She'd not spoken to him much, had tried to keep her distance after some of the rumours she'd heard about him being an aggressive drunk, but the bite to his voice made it difficult to look away. Especially as he was directing the question at a replacement, and one of Heffron's friends, no less.

"It's a Presidential Distinguished Unit Citation," Miller replied, a particularly sweet replacement. Whilst it was true that most of the replacements weren't as harmless as they looked, this once certainly was, which was what made Posey sit up a little bit straighter in her seat. "For, uh, for what the regiment did in Normandy."

"That's right," Cobb replied, all fake enthusiasm. "For what the regiment did. You weren't there."

"Hey, hey, ease up, Cobb. Hm?" Hoobler cut in. Posey's shoulders relaxed a tad. "It's a Unit Citation."

Regardless of Hoobler's interference, Cobb didn't back down. Miller's eyes darted around and his cheeks flushed under the scrutiny. When he reached up for his Unit Citation, Posey frowned and glanced back at her friends, only to find them locked in conversation even though they'd clearly heard the initial challenge. When she turned back to Miller, he was laying the badge on the table.

"You don't need to take it off," Posey spoke up abruptly, unable to help it. Miller glanced over at her, looking thoroughly humiliated, and offered a subtle nod of acknowledgement before rising to his feet and heading for the other side of the pub.

"Shit, Cobb," Bull said, picking up the Unit Citation. "You didn't fight in Normandy neither."

As soon as Bull had turned away, Cobb bent down to address the remaining replacements at the table, Garcia and Hashey. "I got hit in the plane before I got a chance to jump."

"Is that what made you such a bully?" Posey wondered, her eyes burning holes into the side of his face. She felt fire racing through her veins, a certain rage she couldn't push down. She knew what it was like to be an outsider and Miller hadn't deserved that.

"What are you, his fuckin' bodyguard?" Cobb snapped back.

Posey rose to her feet, though she could hardly say why, because for all that Cobb wasn't that much taller than her she knew he could still beat her in hand to hand. Her body seemed to be moving faster than her mind could keep up with, however, fuelled by unbridled anger and defensiveness. Before she could filter her words, they came tumbling out of her mouth. "If you think he needs protection from a pathetic creature like you I think you need to get yourself checked out for narcissism."

Heffron stood from his seat and cut around the back of the table, presumably to follow after Miller. Posey's eyes flicked over to the others behind her, whose attention was suddenly not so hard pressed elsewhere.