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Alexandre blinked.  He hadn’t even considered a [i]footlocker[/i] – it simply hadn’t occurred to him.  Of course, he knew such things existed – he had inspected them regularly, after all, when he was…  Before.  Before.  But throughout that before he had always had his personal quarters or tent, and his personal storage with them; footlockers were not the things foremost in his mind when he thought on sequestering or safekeeping.  [i]That…  One ought to be assigned to me eventually, no?  I am hardly the most aware of typical infantry procedure.  Am I to ask?  Would that be impertinent?

Is there paperwork?[/i]

For a brief bit of time he gave himself to that consideration before lifting his gaze to meet Britta’s eyes; she bore a joyous, somehow unfettered expression and with it Alexandre felt himself untensing, just a touch, as a half-remembered part of him resonated.  “That would be a possibility were I to have one as yet; as yet, however, I do not.  Even then, I fear I would be asking you regardless; this is of some significance, and I understand that you and your beau –” (Alexandre gave himself the slightest mental congratulation at having found a term that was both accurate and inoffensive in the instant before the sentence reached the point at which it was required) – “are well-respected here.”

Of course, it would also be ideal to keep the carbine tucked away in a more familiarly unusual space where fewer people would notice its exotic construction, as compared to the theoretical storage of a private who had been admitted to the unit only a few days ago and present in these constricting trenches for a shorter time than that.  It would be distinctly [i]non-ideal[/i] for it to be taken away for, say, reverse engineering or to be gifted to a Valois commander.  No, far better out of sight, hidden among other oddities.

Alexandre turned the carbine over in his hands, letting its blue sheen catch the sunlight, looking over its polished form for the last time in a while.  “As to what…  An old weapon and but a few clips of compatible ammunition.  It will hopefully be unnecessary, for the foreseeable future.”  His expression flickered, turning downcast for a short second, before his smile reasserted itself to rejoin Britta’s.  [i]And, now I consider it…  It is not as if I…[/i]  “And, actually, perhaps this case too, if it would not be a bother,” he added, extending the arm upon which it hangs.  “I will not be needing it either.”

[i]There is already much to remind me[/i], he thought, feeling the ever-growing weight of the axe at his hip.

“But, of course,” Alexandre concluded, “that will be later, will it not?  You have your station here.”  He looked about himself.  “I do not suppose that you are one for company?  I would not wish to distract you from your duties, of course; it is only that I have not been added to the rotations yet, and I…”

Alexandre, for a moment, froze.

Just a moment.

“…am aware of the benefits of camaraderie in a unit such as ours.”

[@FalloutJack]