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Sergeant Soap’s eyes crinkled with amusement, like he was expecting König to deliver a punchline. The moment stretched too long. “You can’t… not have civies.”
König looked down at himself. He was wearing cargo pants. There was nothing combustible in his pockets. His jacket was sturdy, and warm enough. His undershirt was even clean. “This is insufficient?”
The joint training they were conducting with the 141 hadn’t necessitated casual wear. König didn’t even own track pants, or the athletic shorts Soap wore to physical training.
“No worries.” Sergeant Soap smiled. König liked that. He initially had been wary of the loud Brit, but was pleasantly surprised to learn that Soap was very kind and patient as well, taking pains to make König feel included but not overwhelmed. “Nothing for it; shops in the village, we’ll set you up.”
König did not know what to make of that initially, but come free time that same day he was dutifully following Soap through the barracks. He watched the sergeant slide a refrigerator magnet across the badge swipe, quickly slipping in and back out with a garment.
“Might be a bit tight on you, but figured you’d want a hood.” He explained, holding it out.
König took it, unfolding the black sweatshirt with RILEY on the back in white lettering. “I do not think Lieutenant Ghost will appreciate my borrowing his clothes.”
Soap waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, he won’t even notice. ‘Sides, don’t know how well a sniper hood would go over in town.”
König supposed that was true. If Lieutenant Ghost truly did not mind… the sweatshirt was a bit tight in the shoulders, and fell just shy of his hips, but he did like having the hood to accompany his face mask.
Taking the public bus was… an experience. The aisle was cramped, and one woman shot König a nasty look when he accidentally jostled her handbag.
Soap gave him a sort of apologetic smile, squeezing into the empty seat.
Even with Soap’s efforts, König did not fit in the seat beside him very well. He had to keep one leg out in the aisle, his shoulders curling inwards but he could not get his leg in without well and truly pushing Soap into the window. König turned his head, searching about for another empty spot, but instead caught a pair of large green eyes watching him. It was a child, perhaps two or three, with wispy blonde hair. Cautiously, he raised his hand in a small wave. The child’s guardian picked them up and turned them the other way. König faced the front again.
He did, in fact, have to squash Soap some. At the next stop, other passengers were disembarking and more got on, forcing König to pull his leg in and feel quite poorly balanced on the bus seat. Soap said not a word of complaint the whole ride, pointing out the window at different spots in the village, the pub where the 141 was wont to spend their off-hours, his favorite café that also served ice cream, and at last their stop, shuffling back up the center aisle. He made sure to not bump the woman’s handbag this time, but as a result he did knock into the elbow of the gentleman across the aisle from her who was eating an egg and onion sandwich. König stopped to apologize, but Soap urged him along.
Their destination was a brick storefront, the windows displaying white mannequins without facial feature wearing the seasonal style. Soap took König by the hand to pull him inside, the bell above the door jingling merrily. The store was arranged in a rather small space, but there was a clear order to the racks of clothing.
“You think you’d like something like this?” Soap asked, pinching the sleeve of Lieutenant Ghost’s sweatshirt between two fingers.
König nodded. “Perhaps… without the skeletons?”
Soap smiled. “Right, no skeletons. Got a favorite color?”
König thought a moment. Most of what he ended up wearing was grey, or black. Or beige. “Blue.” He decided. “Dark blue.”
“Like cobalt or more of a navy?”
König did not want to be difficult. “Navy.” He said.
“Welcome, love, with you in just a moment.” Called a voice deeper in the shop, and a petite woman with grey-blonde hair and thick glasses came forward from among the racks. “What can I help you find today?” She asked kindly, eyes taking in the both of them. König curled his shoulders in.
“We’re looking to get him something comfortable. Casual.” Soap said, giving König an encouraging smile.
König nodded. The store clerk smiled.
“Shall I… show you some of our gentlemen’s styles?”
Soap nodded, talking quickly with the store clerk as the pair of them moved away.
König hesitated in place. Soap seemed to know this all so much better than he did. He looked around, seeing he was at the edge of a section aimed towards older women. A rack of blouses caught his attention, the floral patterns quite nice. One had a print of white sunflowers outlined on a somewhat dark blue, the material smooth and cool between his calloused fingers. This was not what Soap had in mind, surely. It was pretty, but this was not for comfort. The short sleeve was also barely wide enough for his hand, let alone his whole arm. König ought to find where Soap and the clerk went to.
As he turned, he found himself bumping into something person shaped. “Ah, entschuldigung,” he started nervously, reaching out for the slender pale woman’s arms as she tottered on her feet—to find her shiny white face was without feature and her head without hair. König steadied the mannequin with a quiet sigh. The displays felt too close together here, wedging him in in a way that hunching his shoulders did little to solve. He turned in place, mindful of his limbs as he moved away from the blouses.
He followed the sound of voices deeper into the store, where Soap and the clerk were examining hooded sweatshirts.
Soap turned back, smiling at König. “There you are, thought we lost you.”
König had an apology on his lips, but Soap was holding up a pair of pants. “You a fan of joggers?”
König took the pants, seeing how they looked like ordinary athletic pants, only tapering down at the ankles. “I do not know.” They were black, with a panel on the sides of crisscrossing white diamonds.
“Want to try them?”
König looked at Soap, the small pile of clothing the man had over his arm, and nodded.
König felt like he tried on half of the store, Soap passing things through the changing curtain, asking him if it was comfortable, then exchanging it for something else. König settled on the joggers and a hooded sweatshirt.
When at last the stream of new clothing came to an end, König checked himself in the mirror to ensure his own clothing was straight, stepping out to find Soap and the clerk absent. He made his way back up front, where the clerk was packing things neatly into a bag for them.
“Oh,” König said, trying to recall which pocket he had his wallet in, but Soap waved him off.
“My treat.” The man said.
“You do not have to,”
“My treat.” Soap repeated. “You’re not convincing me otherwise.”
The setting of the sun was a peaceful sight, the shadows stretching long over the amber-hued village as the activity of the day began to calm. König savored the taste of chocolate ice cream while Soap worked his way through a cone of strawberry. König had insisted on paying despite Soap’s assertions that he was all too glad to, as thanks for the afternoon.
“Thank you.” König said, breaking the companionable silence that had settled between them.
“It’s really nothing.” Soap told him with a smile. “I like getting things for people. And it’s worth it if I’ve got a chance to just spend some time with my friends.”
Something tight balled up in König’s throat. “Friends?”
“Yeah. We are friends, aren’t we?”
Oh. Oh. Soap was too good to him. König smiled, nodding. “We are, yes.” He hadn’t many friends. He was glad to have Soap as one.
“Go on,” the Brit said, waving a hand towards the paper shopping bag on the seat outside the café beside König. “Give us a look.”
König juggled with his ice cream cone a moment until Soap extended a hand helpfully. His ice cream safe in his friend’s keeping, König pulled fabric from the bag, setting aside Lieutenant Ghost’s hooded sweatshirt and putting on the one from the shop. It was a deep navy blue, not terribly heavy but soft, comfortable on his arms. This one pulled over rather than zipped, with drawstrings for tightening the hood. Inside the bag of course was the pair of joggers—which he certainly wouldn’t be putting on now and here—but something else beneath it caught his attention.
“Saw you looking at that.” Soap said as König pulled the garment out. “Couldn’t find the same color in your size, but I’ve got the receipt if you want to exchange it for something else.”
“It is perfect.” König smoothed his hand over the silky fabric with the sunflower outlines. He would make a point, he thought, to find something for Soap. To bring back the next time he saw his friend.