Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]

Marius took his lambs back. He looked dumbfounded. "Do—do you want your money back?"

"Keep it," he told the other man, giving a one-shouldered shrug.

John pulled his wife close for a brief kiss.

She savored the taste of his lips.

"What've you got cooking?" He asked her with his candid smile.

"Your favorites," she replied softly.

"Mm, you didn't," he grinned, "You are the best, Jane." John kissed the top of her head.

"Keep it," he told the other man, giving a one-shouldered shrug.

"Thank you," he replied emphatically, setting down the lambs in the grass. "Can I get you anything? A drink of water?" The farmer offered.

It was almost impossible for Louis not to notice how nice the boy's eyes looked in the bright sunlight, and though he had long since come to terms with himself, he knew when not to mess around and be foolish. "Some water would be nice," he admitted, watching the lambs run unsteadily away.

oMG SONG FOR CRUZ:
Prospekt's March by Coldplay )

He beckoned him to come, turning away to walk through dehydrated grasses toward the two-story log cabin he called home.

(I will look it up!)

Louis followed, rolling up the sleeves of his sweat and soil-stained top to expose toned forearms.

Marius didn't see til Louis passed through the opened door. "Are you a farmer?" He asked– in his experience, nothing was more laborious.

Louis shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Non," he replied, not bothering to cover up his French accent, "Blacksmith."

"Ah," Marius replied very quietly. "It's left it's mark on you.."

Louis chuckled, glancing down at his broad chest and arms. "Thank you, I guess? You farm sheep, oui?"

"Yes," he replied, "And potatoes, sometimes. To make sure I always have something to eat,"

Louis opened his mouth to reply, when a weak, croaking voice sounded from the next room over. "Marius? Who's that?"
(weakened, elderly parents)

"Costumer," he replied, "Do you need anything, Ma? Water? A snack?"

The frail voice politely declined, sentences chopped up by a hacking cough.

Louis bit his lip and said nothing.

Marius frowned lightly. "Well, let me get you your drink."

Louis gave a shrug in response, glancing around the quaint kitchen.

Marius began to whistle as he filled a glass for Louis.

Louis leaned back against the table behind him, smiling faintly.

He turned around to hand over the lukewarm glass of water, "What's it like?" He asked, "Being a blacksmith?"

Louis gladly took the glass, his fingertips brushing those of Marius.
"Hard work, but so is farming, I imagine. Sweaty. Hot. Takes patience."

"I've always wanted to learn blacksmithing. To be able to make my own tools," Marius rubbed his arm, scratching at his elbow, "It's a handy skill,"

"It is," Louis agreed, scratching absentmindedly at his elbow.

"Are you open for apprintices?" Marius asked with a tinge of anticipation.

With the beautiful farmer? Yes.
Louis squashed the thought before it had time to fully surface. "Well, I never had it considered before," he said, his word order off, "But yes, I suppose."

Marius's golden eyes lit up, "Thank you very much, sir,"

Louis, mildly perplexed, gave a slight nod. "Erm, you're welcome."

He dipped his head a little. "You're from France, I take it?"

"Ah, yes," Louis replied. "Long time ago. And you?"