(no subject)

[thefirststark]

Three days ago, Howard awoke to the news the invasion had begun. D-Day. At last.

In the hours and days since, it's been hard to keep focused on SSR business. He - and everyone else at the base - is anxious for news of the Allies' advance. And for news of the Howling Commandos. For the moment, HYDRA seems less important. Despite at least four lectures from Colonel Phillips reminding the staff otherwise.

And all the while, Howard finds himself wondering about Stark Aviation's contributions. Bombers and transport planes carrying paratroopers. Despite the company name, landing craft. Even parachutes. He knows it will be weeks or months till he learns how well all materials with his name on them fared. But that doesn't make him feel less anxious.

So once again, Howard treats to the Bar. This time, he gets a drink and then heads outside. Into the quiet and sunshine. The gloom of England and the distant rattle of war are, if not forgotten, diminished for the time being.

Comments

[scurlock]

A man is walking along the beaten path that leads one through the grounds to the stables that sit out in a field beyond the lake, his direction headed towards the bar. He's carrying a leather bag over one shoulder and a rifle over the other, and the way his feet are methodically trudging along the dirt one might think at first glance that he was a soldier returning from battle.

But as he approaches, it becomes obvious that he is not a soldier, but from an even earlier time, given the outfit (boots, spurs, bandana tied loosely around his neck, half-chaps, well-dirtied denim and cotton and leather, hat tipped back off his forehead, and a Colt holstered at his hip) he's wearing.

Doc notices the man with the drink and offers him a slightly-weary smile as they get within range of conversation. He slows his walk and glances at the bar's back door.

"I'm hopin' there ain't nothin' weird goin' on in there tonight that's driven you out here," he says by way of greeting. "'Cause I just got done drivin' in a whole mess'a sheep and I'm really not lookin' forward to dealin' with Milliways bein' weird on me."

[thefirststark]

"I didn't notice anything weird before I came outside. I just didn't feel like being inside." He studies the man, takes in the accent, and ponders just one thing.

"Sheep?"

[scurlock]

"I offered to git a healthy-sized flock of 'em for a woman here who has a world where there ain't any good animals left," Doc explains. "Her version of things has war destroyin' everything with some sorta bombs that poisoned all the water and the land with radiation. Things are finally startin' to recover and I told her I could find some healthy stock for her to take back to her world, set up an operation."

[thefirststark]

"Ah. I wasn't aware anyone raised any livestock here. That's all." He thinks he knows who the man is referring to. Someone he talked with when he first arrived. "Not that I know much about animal husbandry."