Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]

She nodded politely. "Are you sure there's nothing else I can do for you while you're here?"

"Ah, no, you've been so hospitible," James replied kindly.

"Well, I certainly try, James." She smiled.

"André's a lucky man," he complimented, standing to go put the teacup in the kitchen to be cleaned.

It was Jane's turn to blush. "I can take that for you if you like," she offered.

"I insist, you outdo yourself," Janes laughed, but let her take the teacup. "I hope your cat is okay…" He commented half-nervously.

"I'll find him," she assured, carrying both of their teacups away. On the way to the kitchen, she paused to drain the rest of hers and continued on her way.

James turned his head, taking a keen interest to a painting over the ornate fireplace.

Jane returned and noticed his gaze. "Interest you?"

"I went to college to bevome an artist," James spoke.

Bailey rubbed his palms up and down his marked arms. "I'm not going back.." He realized again.

"You're not," George affirmed. "Is that something you're happy about?"

"I don't know," Bailey replied, pushing blond hair from his eyes.

He nodded understandingly. "Well, why would it be a good thing? Why would it be bad? List reasons."

(therapist George lmao)

He leaned back in the chair again, rubbing his lips together thoughtfully. "Well. Military's all I've had," Bailey spoke. "Yet every man in that place hated me with a burning passion. But I was never effected by that," judging by the way he said it, and knowing his past, it wouldn't be beyond reason that taking the hit of other men's hatred was Bailey's way of being punished for the guilt of his wife and unborn child's death.

George nodded again. "Never affected? At all?"

Bailey shook his head curtly, lips pursing tightly with a conflicting response. "It's inconvenient, is all,"

"Being affected by relentless verbal insults? That's more than inconvenient, Bailey."

"I'm not soft," Bailey replied curtly. "I can handle it," he scratched at a bundle of scars along his left arm.

"I went to college to bevome an artist," James spoke.

"Ah," she sighed understandingly and nodded. "I love art."

He laughed quietly, "My parents put me in the British force.. to them, art is a dead end.."

Jane touched his shoulder gently. "I think art is incredible."

"Likewise," James replied. "I'd like to get back to it, someday,"

"I'm not soft," Bailey replied curtly. "I can handle it," he scratched at a bundle of scars along his left arm.

“For the last time, Bailey, I’m not accusing you of being weak. It’s okay if you’re hurt.”

"Likewise," James replied. "I'd like to get back to it, someday,"

"I hope that you will," she commented. "I'd love to see some of your work."

"I'm not soft," Bailey replied curtly. "I can handle it," he scratched at a bundle of scars along his left arm.

“For the last time, Bailey, I’m not accusing you of being weak. It’s okay if you’re hurt.”

He shifted his jaw. "I don't like it," he admitted very quietly.

"Likewise," James replied. "I'd like to get back to it, someday,"

"I hope that you will," she commented. "I'd love to see some of your work."

"I have some," James's eyes lit up.

"Likewise," James replied. "I'd like to get back to it, someday,"

"I hope that you will," she commented. "I'd love to see some of your work."

"I have some," James's eyes lit up.

Jane noticed the look in his eyes and smiled. "Well, I'd love to see it then. Shall we make arrangements?"

"Please," James breathed excitedly.

Jane beamed. "When would be convenient for you?"