Grey skies;; <Drake/open> <continued from ALAD>

[Chørd]

`Matthew

The day was shaping up to be pleasant; there were no militia pointing their weapons at the camping redcoats and, although the atmosphere was tense, nobody seemed to care about the regiment of soldiers who'd decided to pitch their tents nearby the town of Newark. Who could stop them anyway, if they wanted? The British were doing nothing here other than making a statement, showing that they did still exist. They weren't imposing any hostile gestures on the civilians, who for the most part just ignored their presence. 

At the centre of the camp were the officers' tents, their owners all sat outside cleaning their uniform and laughing amongst themselves. 
Matt looked up after spitting on the toe cap of his boot and raised an eyebrow at one of the other soldiers.
"You'll get much further if you spit on the leather," the Lieutenant told the young lad, who was furiously polishing his boots. Matthew smiled as he used a cloth to polish up his own shoes, setting them down when he was satisfied he could see his face in them.

"Sir, may I enquire as to why we are here?" The younger soldier asked and Matthew smiled at him politely.
"Orders are orders, we need not question them," he answered with a shrug.
"If you don't mind me asking, sir," the soldier pressed. "This isn't criticism or anything but...your uniform is emaculate...why don't you wear the normal powder and wigs like the other officers?"
"A wig doesn't make someone an officer," Matthew frowned to himself as he started drawing shapes in the dry earth with a twig. "And they're impractical, simply for show."
"And you get away with it?" The soldier grinned and Matthew got up, stretching.
"I do try," he smirked down at the younger militaryman, his expression softening when he noticed the regiment dog come bounding up to him, tail wagging and nose held high.
"Has he been hunting?" The soldier asked Matthew, who had crouched down to pet the squirming dog. 
"Not for game, no," Matthew shook his head and wrinked his nose in disgust as the beagle dog threw his head back and ran his tongue over the Lieutenant's cheek. "We're trying him out as a tracker...gave him the scent of a Patriot and set him off to see where he'd go. I haven't a clue if it worked or not," Matthew's tone softened as the small dog rolled onto its back, allowing the Lieutenant to tickle its belly. "Aren't you a good boy?"

Matthew cleared his throat and stood up as he felt someone loom over him.
"Have you cleaned your jacket?" The Major raised an eyebrow. Matthew nodded and the Major huffed, picking specks of dirt off of the scarlet coat.
"You have dog hair on you," the Major pursed his lips in thought then narrowed his eyes at the Lieutenant.
"I want you to head into town with Apollo and see if you can find either of them there," he instructed and Matthew bowed his head in compliance. "And if I do?"
"The man is wanted dead or alive, and the girl we purposefully want unharmed."
"Aye," Matthew took off his hat slightly in salute then turned to the younger soldier sat down beside him.
"With me, now," Matthew ordered to him then set off, the dog loyally following at his side. The younger soldier quickly scrambled to his feet and ran after the Lieutenant.


The town was particularly busy, bustling with traders and children. Matthew pulled out the rag from his pocket - which supposedly had the girl's scent on it - and bent down to allow the dog to sniff it.
Instantly Apollo was off, Matthew struggling to keep up with the small, excited critter. It wasn't long before the beagle started to pick something up, tail wagging briskly.
"What is it boy?" Matthew asked as he approached the beagle, who had his nose stuck in something. The two soldiers watching waited with bated breath as they waited for the dog to reveal what it had found.

With pride radiating off of it, tge dog lifted its head, a bone held in its jaws. 
Matthew glanced at the younger soldier then sighed.
"I think we better try elsewhere," Matthew huffed in amusement, and began heading towards the market in the town centre, Apollo following him obediently, still holding his head high to show off the prize he'd found.
"He's so British," the other soldier laughed and Matthew glanced down at the beagle, deep in thought.
"Hmm I suppose he is," he nodded. "Only we won't be sporting a scrappy bone - we'll have that Patriot's head to show off and, in time, victory and triumph to rub in tge people's faces."
The younger soldier stopped at a stall to buy some bread, smiling shyly at the girl serving there.
Matthew rolled his eyes, yanking his comrade away from the distraction. The young soldier stared back longingly at the girl, who simply smirked back at him and waved goodbye mockingly.
"Control yourself. They're all just temptresses," Matthew snapped and the younger soldier brushed off his uniform and turned his back on the girl, smiling apologetically at the irritated Lieutenant.
Beside them, the little dog's attention was snared again, and he dropped the bone, running off through the crowd to seek out whatever it was that had caught his interest, determindly darting through people's legs.
Matthew glanced briefly at the younger soldier before running after Apollo, struggling to get anywhere fast with the massing crowd in his way.
"What's the hurry?" The young soldier asked as he managed to catch up with his commander.
"He hasn't got a collar! They could shoot him if they think he's feral!" Matthew snapped back. Whenever he was in a hurry, the crowd seemed to sense it. They all blocked together in an impenetrable swarm, as if to say 'screw you, redcoat!'.
Matthew grinned when he thought he saw the dog's tail but was soon jostled away by the crowd as a horse and cart approached, the citizens all getting out of its way. Matthew tried to ignore the filthy look he and his companion received from the coach driver, but he still felt his hairs prickling with irritance. The driver noticed this and spat at them, before whipping his reins to get his cart to go faster, hoping to get away from the situation before the redcoats could do anything about his behaviour.
"Dirty bastard," Matthew snapped. 
"Well at least his aim sucks," the other Brit grinned, but shut up when Matthew shot a glare at him.
   

[/size]

[drake]

"So, anyways, my father is away, so I was hoping we could go back to the estate..." said the girl. Drake had been becoming increasingly bored with the "relationship", and had been courting the girl for about a month now. He ran his hand through his long and messy hair, and sighed. "I suppose so, I mean, you do want to go to the estate just to go to your room, right?" The girl, a daughter of the governor, giggled and nodded. Drake winced and stood up from the bench. He stuck his arm out and waited for the girl to take it. "M'lady..." he said with a nod, as he led his partner through the street. About a month courting this attractive yet dumb girl, about a month of torture for Drake. Sometimes he actually enjoyed giving fake feelings to girls, and they would actually buy it as he gathered information about their father the Colonel, or their mother, the wife of the Governor, or whatever. How those people came into power was beyond him, all he cared about was ruining them and getting them out of power. By all means, whether it be scandal, murder, or anything else.

Drake led the girl through the street when a beagle came running by. "Ooh! Charles! I really want a beagle!" she begged. "But I thought we were heading..." Drake began, but was cut off by the girl's whining. "NO! Please get it for me, now! If you actually do love me..." 'Sweet merciful God, help me through this...' Drake thought to himself, wincing. "Alright, alright, just... Stay here. Please." The girl pouted and prodded Drake to go on after the dog, which was dodging people and jumping over boxes. Drake began a light jog then broke out into a full sprint, dodging annoyed passerby. 'The things I do for a simple change of power..' he thought as he closed in on the dog. "Gotcha! You're coming with me..." Drake said, grinning. He always liked dogs, but he felt bad for the beagle, as he was to be given to the Governor's daughter, a girl which really tortured animals.

"I'm turning twenty-three soon, can you give him to me then?" the Governor's daughter said, giving Drake or 'Charles' a small smile. "But I thought-" "GIVE IT TO ME THEN!" Drake twitched for a second then gave a small bow. How he would love to put a knife in the girl's back. But, in time, her father would be dead. Drake took the dog with him as he walked through the streets. "You're a hyper little fella, aren'tcha?" he said, laughing as the dog attempted to break free. Drake then looked back and saw two redcoats. "Oh my fucking... Shit!" The beagle belonged to the British! They were here! Drake placed the dog in the back of a carriage, which took off. The dog was pinned by a few boxes, and wouldn't be returning anytime soon after his 'vacation'. Drake ran into an alley and quickly took off his 'noble' clothes, and changed his normal, flexible attire.

It was time to blend with the crowd. Drake quickly walked into a group of people who didn't care about who was around them. They just wanted to get to their destination. It would be a whole lot harder for the British to notice him in this crowd, but if they did, they would have to kill him. Drake glanced down at the pistols in his belt, and his daggers. He could fend off five or six men at once. He walked with the crowd, attempting to look as normal as possible, waiting for the redcoats to pass him. "Charles! Oh Charles! Dear, Charles!" a girl yelled out behind Drake. 'Fuck me oh fuck me oh dammit!' he thought, wincing as she closed in. The girl huffed and walked past the group of people. Thank God. He didn't need a scene, not now. Plus, he was to assassinate the Governor within the next week, and if his 'relationship' was put in jeopardy, his entrance into the Governor's estate would be much more difficult than just walking in.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

The pair of soldiers managed to get through the crowd before they all merged back together again, back into their bustling mass.

"Which way did he go?" The younger soldier asked the Lieutenant, and Matthew furrowed his brow in concentration.
"I'm not too sure," he replied, taking off his hat to scratch his head, eyes scanning the crowd.
"There!" The soldier pointed to a wagging tail disappearing between the legs of oblivious citizens. Matthew took off after it, his comrade closely following.

For the love of God, I'm meant to be finding a criminal, not chasing a damn dog around the streets of Newark! He thought spitefully as he casually pushed passersby away.
"Excuse me!" A man, who'd been shoved out of the way, snapped at him.
"Have you seen a dog?" The other soldier confronted them. The man snorted. "Plenty."
The soldier shook his head and ran after the disappearing Lieutenant. "Some people are so funny nowadays."
Matthew glanced over his shoulder at his follower before stopping again.
"I don't think we're going to find him," he sighed, staring in dismay at the people filling up the streets. It was never normally this busy.
His face lit up when he noticed a dog clambering over a box, nose to ground.

"Apollo! Here boy!" Matthew waved, shouting at the dog. The beagle noticed him and turned, tail wagging, before giving a yapping howl, and turning and running away.
"I would follow you if I could get to you," Matthew muttered, rubbing his face. The two redcoats continued to make their way through the crowd, Matthew whistling when he saw Apollo again. The dog stopped, barked again, then ran off.
Stop trying to get us to follow you and just follow your God damn orders! Matthew snapped.

The two redcoats stopped when they noticed a man approach the dog, who stopped and wagged its tail at him. However, as the man stooped down to pick him up, the beagle quickly turned hostile, and growled furiously, squirming in an attempt to get away.
"A bloody American's picked him up!" The young soldier with Matthew hissed.
The two soldiers ran after the man as he walked with a woman - who looked of noble status - Apollo continuing to wriggle in his arms.
"Stop!" Matthew shouted, but doubted the man heard him. However, he certainly spotted them, and realising whose dog it was, quickly put the beagle on the back of a carraige, which took off immediately.
"You there!" Matthew shouted after him. The man seemed to be panicking, and quickly disappeared.
"Have fun explaining that to the Colonel," the younger Brit laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

In the back of the carraige, the dog fought to stay on its feet, squashed by the boxes. It squirmed and wriggled, fighting to break free, yelping as a box slammed against his leg as the carraige made a particularly sharp turn.
Apollo struggled furiously, growling and barking, eventually freeing his leg and scrambling to get free, thrown over again as the carraige went over a pit in the road.
On his second attempt, the dog managed to perch hesitantly on the edge of the carraige, not sure that jumping off the moving vehicle was a good idea after all. However, his decision was made for him as the carraige hit another pothole in the road and the beagle was knocked off the edge, tumbling to the ground below. He lay there for a moment, trapped in the crate that had bowled him off of the coach. Slowly he got to his feet, his fur dirtied and a small cut on his head. With a groan the dog started walking around the crate, eventually standing up on his hind legs to peer out at his surroundings, whining to himself. Why hadn't the British followed him? He'd caught the scent they'd wanted him to, after all. And why did they let the stranger pick him up and put him on the carraige? What had he done wrong?


Matthew stood with his ally, trying to work out what to do.
"We should try and find the man," he decided eventually. "Perhaps he knows where the carraige was headed?"
The other soldier nodded in agreement, following his commander through the crowd. The sought man, however, appeared to have vanished.
Matthew frowned as he spotted the woman he had been with, and pushed through the crowd to get to her.

"Excuse me?" He cleared his throat. "That dog was ours. Do you know where either he or your male companion went?"
The other soldier fidgeted beside him restlessly, not looking at the girl.
Temptress, temptress, temptress, he repeated over and over in his head glancing up at the Lieutenant as he continued to talk with the pretty girl.

[/size]

[drake]

"My dear Amelia, can you go fetch that basket for me?" asked Samuel Thatcher. Drake's uncle had been housing Amelia for a while now, and with his personal arsenal of weapons, and secret militia, she was quite safe. Amelia went to go get a basket in the house when she heard yelping, like a dog. "I'll get it in a minute..." she said as she ran down the hill on which the Thatcher estate rested upon. She found a beagle trapped by a box, and helped him out. "Well you're a cute little boy. Why don't we get you inside and feed you." she cooed at the dog, walking back into the estate. The forty-something year old man walked over to Amelia to see what was going on. "Ah, hello there, little friend. Make yourself right at home." Minutes later, the Thatchers - consisting of Drake's uncle, Samuel, his cousin, Lucas, and his aunt, Bethany - and Amelia were all around the dog, cleaning it and feeding it. "Can we keep it, father?" asked the nine-year-old Lucas. "I'm not sure, perhaps. Where is Drake?" Samuel asked, looking around to check if his nephew had arrived yet. Amelia also looked around, wondering where her brother-like figure had gone. "I think he's still in the city. Should I go after him?" Bethany walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, my dear, you must stay, it isn't safe in the city, unless you're with Drake."

"Yours?! I'll have you know that I am the Governor's daughter, and you have no authority to take away my sweet Reginald!" Drake heard his "lover" speaking to the redcoats. 'Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, come on!' Drake thought, gritting his teeth and grimacing. "But I suppose I'll tell you where my lovely Charles is, seeing as he fetched the dog for me." the noblewoman said, tossing her hair. She continued, "My Charles probably left the city to his friend's estate, the Thatchers. He's that Samuel's nephew, you know." Drake, exasperated, found one of the many servants of the Governor. "Samantha, take the dear Governor's daughter away from the redcoats. She's attempting to cheat on the one she is betrothed to." The servant nodded and walked towards the Governor's daughter. "No mo' flirtin' fo' you, miss'eh." the African said, leading away the nobelwoman. She surprisingly obeyed, and bid the redcoats leave.

Drake ran into an alley and climbed up a building. He pulled himself up to the roof, then laid there, prone, watching the redcoats' every move. They weren't to take one step in the estate, but if they did dare to, Samuel would take care of them.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

Matthew smirked at the woman's protests, glancing aside at his less comfortable associate.
"Miss, that dog is part of the British military, and he's very important to us," he began to explain as she continued to talk, but couldn't hold back his bout of laughter as she referred to her 'sweet Reginald!'
"His name's Apollo," Matthew managed to correct her between sniggers. "He's the Colonel's dog, so I'm sure you wouldn't want to mess with him."
Matthew became all-serious again when she mentioned Charles. So that was the man's name?
"Who are these Thatcher people, and where do they live?" He pressed, frowning when a black servant came to escort the lady away.
"Hang on! We're not finished!" He shouted after her. The younger soldier huffed in amusement. "Apparently, we are."

Matthew shook his head, sighing exasperatedly. "I suppose we better start looking for these Thatchers then, eh? We can't return to camp without the dog - I may be able to get away with making military mistakes, but I'll be hung for losing the Colonel's pet."
He grabbed a hold of a passer-by's arm, frowning at him. "The Thatcher estate, where and what is it?"
"Follow the road out of the city and you'll find it. The Loyalist Samuel lives there with his family," the citizen explained. "He's not in trouble is he?"
"No, not at all," Matthew shook his head sincerely, then grinned at the younger soldier beside him as he released his grip on the American's arm.
"Loyalist huh? Shouldn't be too much trouble, then," the blonde concluded and followed the citizen's instructions. The pair walked down the road for a while, eventually stopping when they spouted a large house perched on a slope.
"That must be it," the younger soldier nodded to the Lieutenant.



Apollo tucked his tail between his legs as he was approached by a girl, who helped him out of the crate he was stuck in, cooing affectionately at him.
He growled slightly as she carried him back to an estate, setting him down as more humans gathered around him. They smelled different to the British, yet strangely familiar. The British - particularly new recruits - smelled of the salty sea and powder. This family...
The dog growled again as a child petted him, holding out his palm with food on it while turning to talk to the older man with him. Apollo took the food, wagging his tail slightly. There was something about them, though, that irritated him. He padded over to the girl who'd found him again, his claws scratching against the wooden floorboards. He thrust his nose into her hand, giving her fingers a gentle lick, sniffing her cautiously.

He backed away quickly, letting out a shrill howl - this was the scent he'd been given to find!
He continued to bark, dancing away from them, putting so much effort into his cries that he jolted every time he yelped. The redcoats would be so pleased with him - no doubt they'd give him extra food, and plenty of pats...perhaps one would even let him share a tent for his troubles!
The beagle relentlessly continued to sound the alarm, but his calls became less frequent as he looked around, confused as to why the British hadn't come running yet.

[/size]

[drake]

The dog howled and clawed on the hard, wooden floors of the Thatcher estate on the outskirts of the city. "What's wrong with him, father?" the boy, Lucas, asked. Drake's uncle eyed the dog for a moment then put his hand on his forehead, then ran his fingers through his once lush, jet black hair, now graying, and losing its color. "He's one of their dogs! The Redcoats. Listen to the way he howls. No doubt they will be here soon, if they hear him. Bethany, take him down to the basement. And leash him, too." Samuel commanded his wife, who quickly took the worried dog into her arms and ran down the stairs to the basement. She leashed the dog and gave it a bone, hoping to at least calm it down a bit. Samuel walked with swiftness toward a window, and pulled the curtain back, hoping that no redcoats would be on his land, ready to storm his home. But there they were, two redcoats, probably looking for their dog. He turned towards his young son, knelt down, and affectionately put his hands on the boy's shoulders. He knew the day would come. "Lucas, my boy, just like you practiced. Go to the armory and fetch a rifle, and hide. Take Amelia with you, and go downstairs with your mother." The young boy surprisingly grinned and did so.

Drake had watched the redcoats and followed them out of the city, jumping from rooftop to rooftop silently, careful not to be spotted. The words still rang in his head, only moments after the two had an exchange. "I suppose we better start looking for these Thatchers then, eh? We can't return to camp without the dog - I may be able to get away with making military mistakes, but I'll be hung for losing the Colonel's pet." One of the soldiers had grabbed a passer-by, who told him a bit about Drake's family, and told the redcoats exactly where it was. Now, Drake was careful not to be spotted, hiding behind trees, then moving from bush, to tree, to ditch, and all over again. But he attempted to get a good look at the soldiers, and then it him him; the Lieutenant, Matthew Chord, was actually here, looking for Drake's family! Drake started steaming as he followed them. The pair of redcoats stopped at the entrance to the estate, and were ready to walk up the hill and supposedly enter Drake's uncle's house. Drake quickly walked back down the road, looking for something that would take him to the estate without getting noticed. He found the entrance to the secret door, entered the tunnel, then shut the door.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

Matthew and his companion continued walking down the road, relaxed. With any luck they'd be faced with no hostility - after all, as the civilian had said, the family were Loyalist, and tge pair simply wanted their dog back.

"Y'hear that?" The officer nudged Matthew, and the lieutenant stopped and frowned, concentrating on the sound if a dog barking and howling - the typical sound of a beagle, of Apollo.
"Sounds like him," Matthew grinned, and the pair continued on again. "And here I was, thinking he'd be hard to find. I hope they haven't harmed him."

The two redcoats approached the door, frowning when they realised the beagle had stopped barking. Hesitantly, Matthew knocked on the door, glancing at the other officer. It wasn't like Apollo to simply shut up, particularly when he was alerting the British of something or another.


Down in the basement, Apollo was contently gnawing on the bone he'd been given, making short work of it as he chewed away. When all remaining scraps of meat had been scraped away, and the marrow sufficiently demolished, the beagle sat up, straining against the leash on him.
He could hear voices upstairs - British accents, even - and immediately started barking again.


At the door, Matthew raised an eyebrow, and the other officer smirked.
"That's him. He must have heard us," he nodded and Matthew narrowed his eyes.
"He's going beserk, wherever he is. It's as if he's trying to alert us or something," Matthew pursed his lips in thought, growing impatient at the slow response to his knock.
"He's just happy we're here," the other officer grinned. "And as soon as we've got him again, we can see about finding this girl again."
Matthew put his finger to his lips. "That's confidential," he snapped. "Keep your mouth shut, will you?" 


   

[/size]

[drake]

The aging Thatcher man quickly walked up the steps from the basement of his estate. There was a pair of redcoats at his front door, waiting for him. What did they want? They probably wanted their dog back, and hopefully, there would be no problem. Lucas and Amelia stayed in the basement, guns at the ready, should the two redcoats attempt to search the house. Samuel fumbled with the doorknob for a few seconds before finally opening it. "Hello there, what can I do for you?" He said with a welcoming smile and nod. Samuel then stepped to the side, and beckoned the British soldiers to enter his home. "Come in, come in. Do you need anything to drink?" The man asked, then looking around the room for his wife. "Bethany! Fetch two glasses of water for our visitors, please!"

Drake ran through the tunnels, trying to get to the basement as fast as possible. He could hear his uncle talking the two redcoats up, and if things got ugly quickly, Drake would be there to put a bullet in both of those redcoats' chests. He reached a flight of stairs, then slowed his pace down to a quiet walk. The Patriot silently went up the steps and slowly opened the door. Lucas and Amelia trained their guns on him for a second, afraid of who it was. "You're not gonna shoot me, are ya?" he whispered, barely audible. His nine-year-old cousin ran up and gave him a loaded rifle. "Whatever you do, don't make a sound, yet. Lucas, run up there and give 'em the dog." Drake whispered once more, slowly reaching for the dog's bone. When he retrieved it from the beagle's mouth, he unraveled the leash and gave the dog to the boy.

"Please, make yourself at home, take a seat." Samuel said with a smile. His wife came from the kitchen and placed the two glasses of water on a table. Samuel took a seat and sighed. "So, what brings you to my home?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

Matthew frowned at the man who answered the door, clearly irritated by being kept. If he dared to play stupid with the pair, Matthew had a feeling his temper would quickly run out, too.

Matthew remained silent as he stepped inside, leading the way into the house as the other soldier trailed in after him, staring around the room.
At the offer of a drink Matthew shook his head. "No, we're fine," he protested, but was ignored anyway. The other soldier seemed to brighten at the idea of quenching his first, however, and tried to hide the smile on his face from the Lieutenant, who looked much less content.

"We have reason to believe you have our dog," Matthew began as two glasses of water were placed on a table. The other soldier took his glass, nodding slightly in thanks to the woman who'd got it for him, but neither made a move to sit down when the older houseowner did so.
"He's of no military value, simply a pet," Matthew continued, resisting the urge to pace back and forth. "We'd like him back, if you please. He's small, friendly...a beagle."

The other soldier put his empty glass back down on the table, clearing his throat nervously as the Lieutenant glared at him.


In the boys arms, the said beagle squirmed. He hated all this touchy-feely stuff from strangers, and growled threateningly at the boy, trying to give him a damn hard time carrying him.
As they left the basement, however, the beagle settled down a bit as he listened to familiar voices, wriggling furiously again, getting more and more excited as he let out a little bark.


Matthew looked round at the beagle's yap, frowning at the homeowner before starting to walk away.
"You better not have harmed him," he snapped over his shoulder as he waited by the door, anticipating impatiently the appearance of Apollo.

[/size]

[drake]

Samuel glanced at the officer, then slowly got up from his chair and walked over to the top of the steps. "Yes, we have him. We found him on the side of the road, trapped by a box. Poor fellow was shaken up and such, but we did try our best to make him comfortable." Samuel explained. He looked down to the basement and saw his son attempting to carry the dog. "Lucas, my boy, please bring the soldiers' dog here." he bellowed, the order traveling down the flight of stairs with a soft echo. Moments later, the young boy came up with the dog, which was wriggling in his arms. "It's okay, boy, it's okay. You're going with your friends now, it's okay." The young Lucas said, attempting to calm the beagle down as he pet him. "Here you are, sir." The boy said as he handed the dog over to the blonde-haired officer.

Down below, and behind the wall, Amelia and Drake were listening to the conversation as Lucas walked up the steps. "Careful with that now. Don't want to accidentally blow a hole through the ceiling." Drake whispered with a grin. He seriously hoped that the bastard and his sidekick didn't go downstairs. Too much trouble disposing of the bodies, creating a ruse to cover up the deaths, yadda yadda yadda. Drake wanted no part of that, the New Jersey colony was the only 'safe' place for Amelia, for the time being. He looked down at his belt, checking his small armory-in-a-belt, and then returned his gaze to the stairs, a bright light traveling down from above.

Samuel waited for the officer to respond patiently, then looked to his wife, Bethany, who had been waiting patiently as well. "We hope we have caused you no trouble." she said with a smile.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

Matthew bowed his head slightly in gratitude as the homeowner got up, explaining how they came to have the Britons' dog. The other soldier followed the older man to the doorway, watching as he shouted down to someone.
"Thank you," Matthew forced a polite smile at the aged man. "We appreciate it."
Matthew glanced at the other soldier, who had invited himself to examine the room they were in, rudely examining some of the objects on the table and fiddling with a candle.
He looked round as the lieutenant cleared his throat, clearly unamused by his comrade's behaviour, and muttered a quick apology to the officer as he marched quickly to his side.

The lieutenant couldn't stop a smile spreading across his face as he saw a young boy come up from the stairs at - what he presumed was - his father's command, sporting a squirming dog in his arms.
The dog went ballistic as he saw the two redcoats, tail wagging frantically and whining desperately as he struggled to get free.
Matthew happily took the dog into his arms, laughing nervously at the soldier with him, who looked equally as pleased - and relieved - to have the dog back.
"That's our skins saved," Matthew smiled, chuckling to himself as Apollo licked his face, giving him a thorough washover with his tongue.
"Missed me?" The lieutenant murmured to the dog, whose tail continuously wagged. "Nah, I bet you're just looking forward to the food back home."
He frowned when he noticed the small cut on the beagle's head, and shot a glare at the boy who'd been carrying Apollo.
"How did he get this?" He demanded, the other soldier beside him wiping his thumb over the small gash, examining it curiously. The beagle growled quietly, staring at the boy who'd carried him, almost with the same patronising glare that the officer holding him wore.

[/size]

[drake]

Samuel furrowed his brow, and walked towards the lieutenant, who was holding the "injured" dog. "Hmph. Lucas, how did it happen?" he asked, placing his hand on Lucas's shoulder. "I don't know father, perhaps I nicked him when I untied him?" Lucas replied, obviously getting just a little nervous at the officer and the dog staring at him. Bethany quickly ran to the kitchen and retrieved a wet towel and some soap. She bent over to the dog in the officer's arms and began cleansing the wound. Samuel grinned at the beagle, which seemed to have the exact same look as the officer. "Well, if that was the case, I apologize. My dear boy ought to be more careful around animals," he exchanged a look with his son, then returned his eyes to the officer. "This won't happen again. Do you need anything else, now?"

Drake listened intently to the people upstairs, and when Lieutenant Chord saw - what Drake presumed to be - a cut of some sort on the dog. He muttered a curse, but then was relieved when his uncle quickly took charge of the situation. Then, Amelia, obviously irritated by the dust which floated around in the air of the basement, coughed. She quickly squinted, and began to move away from the entrance to the basement, hoping that if she did need to shoot someone. Drake silently sighed and did the same, waiting for a redcoat to come down the stairs. Should he have to fight, he'd be ready. He took a deep breath, then steadied his rifle at the doorway.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

Matthew's expression darkened further when the boy explained how it must have been him to blame for the scratch on Apollo's head.
"You should be more careful," the lieutenant snapped hostily. "If the Colonel gives us hell for the damage of his pet, we'll know exactly which direction to send him in."

Apollo growled furiously, a deep rumble in his throat, when the woman of the house tried to dab at his cut with a damp towel. The dog snapped at her, hairs along his spine prickling.
"Oi," the lieutenant holding him hissed. "Be nice."
The beagle returned to sulking, snuggling closer into the Brit as he watched the Americans drowsily.
Matthew turned his attention to the older man speaking and scowled at him.
"No, it won't happen again. If we find out you've been keeping and damaging British property again, we'll have the troops rein down on you in no time."
The dog in the increasingly frustrated lieutenant's arms felt obliged to add a little grow, but quietened down as Matthew held his muzzle shut. 


Both soldiers, and the dog, stared around as they heard a cough.
"Seems they've got coughing floorboards," the soldier turned to Matthew, huffing in amusement. Gently, Matthew set the beagle down on the floor, shooting a glare at the young boy and his father before returning his gaze to the dog, who was pacing back and forth with his nise to the ground. He stopped near the top of the stairs and barked, the two British soldiers exchanging looks before heading over to the yapping dog.
"What's down there?" Matthew asked, turning to the homeowner. The other soldier pulled out the rag with Amelia's scent on it and allowed the dog to sniff it.
"Find!" He urged, but Apollo simply kept on barking, trying in vain to get his information across to the redcoats, who tried their best to keep him quiet.
Matthew exchanged looks with his accomplice, the pair clearly thinking the same thing. 
"We best be leaving," Matthew sighed, not bothering to stoop down and pick up the obstinate dog. "Keep your nose clean and out if trouble, lad," Matthew snapped at the boy before heading to the door. "And of course, thank you for looking after Apollo...I suppose."


   

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[drake]

Samuel could deal with a snotty lieutenant who was full of himself for so long. But when the Brit began snapping at Lucas, the forty-something Thatcher man had enough. "You suppose, eh? I've been supporting the British troops for God-knows how long, and this is how they repay me? Sending snotty brats full of themselves who bark orders at every moving thing in sight?" he snarled, glaring at the officer. Samuel seemed to be twice the officer's age, and it showed - the man had so much pride stuffed into his uniform, it was surprising that he got himself dressed every day. "Save for you, that is," Samuel said, giving a stern yet respectful nod to the other soldier. "As for you, you should go about respectin' one another, perhaps they'll actually respect you someday!" he began pacing, keeping his gaze fixed upon his family's rude visitor. "By God's blood, if you're the actual face of the British army, they better lose the war! And I'm a damned respected Loyalist around here, and the other soldiers that walk about have at least an ounce of respect for others!" he boomed, once again. Lucas quickly walked behind him for safety, because things were going to get ugly.

Drake groaned silently as his uncle's temper blew when the bastard Chord began berating them, marching about them, giving them orders. He took from his father quite a bit, but Drake had the exact same personality as his mother's brother. The insults rolled off his uncle's tongue easily, he noted. Samuel had been under the cover of a Loyalist for quite some time, and should he choose to blow it now, Drake wondered where Amelia would go. Perhaps further down South? His thoughts were interrupted by a gunshot. 'No... NO!' Drake thought, a worried look crossing his face. Then he turned to Amelia, whose gun was pointed upwards. The firearm was still smoking, and the hole in the ceiling of the basement was not missable. She grimaced, then mouthed some words. "Sorry..." Cover blown, eh? What was there to lose? Drake tossed Amelia his rifle, then ran up, pistols at the ready. Amelia quickly followed suit. "Oh. Hey look, it's the British lieutenant-who-I-have-no-idea-how-he-got-that-rank. 'Ello bastard. Get your knickers in a knot, eh?" Drake said with a sarcastic grin. Some muffled laughter was heard from Lucas, who was still finding solace behind his father. Drake cocked the weapon as he stared at the lieutenant.

[Chørd]

`Matthew

As soon as the elder man started throwing insults at the two British - namely Matthew - the pair narrowed their eyes, the beagle with them tearing itself away from the top of the stairs to hide in some corner, sensing a spar brewing.

"I'm not a brat," Matthew spat back at the homeowner, grinding his teeth together. The soldier beside him cleared his throat, adding a quiet, pleading Sir for good measures. Matthew glanced over his shoulder at the private, teeth clenched furiously.
"We should leave," the soldier urged him, but the Lieutenant was determined to have his turn to fire insults across the room. It seemed, however, that the scornful homeowner wasn't finished with his rant. This time, he turned to the soldier stood beside Matthew, who looked extremely uncomfortable with the situation.
"What's that meant to mean?" He hissed back indignantly, staring at the floorboards when Matthew held up a hand to silence him. Still the middle-aged man ranted on, most of what he was saying going in the Brits' ears and out the other side. However, their defenses flared up again when he was finished.
"Respect?" Matthew laughed. "We do respect each other. All our men respect each other; we don't have an army founded on love and friendship, for sure, but we certainly uphold our dignity and common pride. I've never seen a man leave his comrade to die either, nor mock him for his ill luck, and you have the nerve to bring up respect? You ought to control yourselves better," the lieutenant hissed, motioning to the boy cowering behind his father. "No matter what the future brings, it's looking to be pretty shabby with insolent urchins like him shaping it. And of course, his rolemodels aren't much to go by either, are they?"
The soldier beside Matthew fidgeted, before moving away to pick up Apollo, who was unnerved by the raised voices. These people had helped him, and he'd scented the girl - why weren't the British happy? Was it his fault?
He whimpered as the private carried him back to the lieutenant's side, staring at the American family.

Matthew shook his head, turning away. "We're leaving. Thank you for your help. With luck we shan't run into each other again."
The private glanced between the officer and the Loyalists, not quite sure what to do. He decided following Matthew towards the door was the best course of action, struggling to hold the wriggling dog.

As a shot rang around the house and the floorboards splintered, the two Brits jumped and the dog dropped to the floor. Quickly he ran off, nose to ground and tail in the air.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Matthew demanded, clenching his teeth in frustration. He was about to start shouting at the family again, when a familiar face appeared, guns pointed at the two Brits.
Matthew couldn't help but laugh, cupping his hand over his mouth slightly.
"Y'see?" He turned to the other soldier, who looked completely confused. "They come out the woodwork! Always the same damn ones, too!"
The other soldier forced himself to laugh, watching Drake out of the corner of his eye. "Sir..." he muttered. "I think now would be a good time to make haste..."
Matthew shook his head still smiling - though it wasn't a pleasant smile. It was dry, almost sarcastic, like his laugh had been.
"It's called money," Matthew responded to Drake's taunts. "That's how you get a commission. You buy it."
His smile faded to a scowl and the lieutenant added bitterly; "I was hoping you'd be dead."
The private glanced at the lieutenant.
"Who is he?" He murmured, but was ignored. Matthew's attention was instead fixated on the girl behind Drake, rifle in hand. Apollo was approaching gingerly, hackles raised and teeth bared.
"Suspicions confirmed, private," Matthew shrugged. "She had been there all along. Just goes to show a dog's nose always knows."
The beagle stopped and stared at the British, and wagged his tail briefly, pleased they'd finally realised exactly what all his troubles had been for.
The soldier with Matthew shuffled uncomfortably, not exactly pleased to have two pistols pointed at him. The lieutenant turned to the homeowner, eyebrow raised.
"Do you know this man?" He asked, motioning with his chin to Drake, not bothered by the patriot any more - he'd been through this drill before. Same old, same old.

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