Work Text:
Bobby Vernon. Bright boy. Bit wet. Barely five-foot in boots (stacked). Ankle broken (bone buggered). Basically in a spot of bother. Peppered with bruises, battered, bewildered by a bust-up building between two girls (one burly, one not) who ought to know better but—whoa!
Was that a bra?
Blustering by unaccompanied.
Best they get to scarpering or else—Bugger! He’s suspended between them, his body a bridge, barrelling away from a rainstorm of butter knives.
Commander Kipps won’t be pleased (bollocking imminent). But he’d seen him! He had! The boy they’d burned before burying. He’d only wanted to say goodbye.