milliways_bar | (no subject)

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"But my Lady Bar, I must have a sword. How shall I defend myself or my king without one?" D'Artagnan sighs, sneezes into the handkerchief he has as he stares at the unhelpful note.

"I will drink a posset since you ask it but this isn't right," He takes up the warm drink she offers him and goes to sulk by the fire, his shirt doesn't seem as warm as it should be and he dislikes feeling so weak and unarmed. At least she provided him with clothing that suits him rather than those drab things he found in the room he awoke in.

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D'Artagnan bows to him and then coughs again, "Then lead the way to where we may safely fight, Englishman."

...Harry kind of likes this guy. In a stop-calling-me-Englishman-or-I'll-punch-your-French-face kind of way.

"Then follow, and I will lead." The man has no sword, of course, but they can do without.

As he starts for the back door: "--what is your name?"

"D'Artagnan of Gascony and yours?" Conversations like this are probably why Bar wouldn't give him a sword.

"Sir Harry Percy, of Northumberland," he replies. He leads them to a relatively secluded spot on the lawn, tucked away around the side of the bar. "Will this serve?"

"Yes, it will and no guards will come upon us?" He's had that experience and doesn't wish to repeat it.

"We fight out of the common way, and by consent," Harry says. "They can make no complaint."

"That is fair of them," If only the ones in Paris were so fair minded.

"Some there are who prove less than just," Harry concedes darkly. "But we do observe the very letter of the law."

D'Artagnan bows to Harry, "Then shall we begin?"

Harry breaks into a grin. "O, ay, let's."

He'll let the Frenchman make the first move. Because he's courteous like that.

Quickly D'Artagnan darts in with a fast punches, he prefers fighting with swords but knows what he's doing with his fists. Though he dislikes feeling weak and is aware that he's not as fast or strong as he wants to be.

Harry prefers a sword, too, but he's been practicing with Bahorel. He's better than he was. Of course, all the practice in the world can't make up for his pounding head and fever-blurred vision, and he's only managed to take a couple swings before he doubles over coughing.

One of those swings lands and then his own coughing starts again, "God's teeth, I hate this plague."

Between coughs, he manages to wheeze, "I have not-- have not finished with thee--"

"Nor I," He straightens himself and tries to charge Harry.

Charge at a man who's busy coughing! Harry's indignation at this ungentlemanly behavior gives him a second wind, and he's ready to meet the blow, and to try to grapple d'Artagnan to the ground.

At the grappling, he twists and fights back as well as he can, coughing and wheezing.

And Harry, too, does the best he can, until at last he's forced to sink to his knees, wheezing for breath.

D'Artagnan lays on the ground and coughs, this wasn't wise but the Englishman is a good fighter.

Ugh.

"I do-- I do not--" (he coughs) "Do not count this quarrel settled, we--" (and again) "We will settle this anon, when-- when thou hast use of a sword."

Definitely that's the only impediment. Definitely not the fact that his nose won't stop running and he can't stop coughing.

"Yes, we shall," With a grunt and more coughing, D'Artagnan sits and then stands.

Harry nods. He's just gonna-- stay here on the ground for a second.

D'Artagnan is able to lean against a tree, that helps slightly.

[ooc: shall we leave them there? this thread was a DELIGHT.]

(OOC: Yes, this feels like a great ending. It was, thank you so much.)

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