The door opened, and Tennent approached Stratton’s desk. He stopped and stood at attention. “Sir.”
“They’re your charges now, Lieutenant. Take good care of them.”
He gave them a serious look and silently ushered them from Stratton’s office. “Wait here, please. I have to let someone know I’m leaving.” He walked down the hallway and into a room.
Pendleton turned to Britney. “Serious chap.”
“He’s in a serious business.”
“Quite, but if he cracked a smile, I fear the crack would continue round his head, and the entire top would fall off of him.”
Chuckling, Britney looked at her watch. “He’s taking an awfully long time.”
“Let’s venture closer. Maybe he’ll pick up on our impatience.”
They walked down the hall and stopped when they heard Tennent speaking to one of his fellow soldiers. “Great, now I have to babysit this British pinhead on some fact-finding mission. I’ll have to put up with pip pip cheerio, tea time, where’s the lift, God save the queen, blimey, bugger, brill, bum, and have a butcher…” His rant came to a slow stop as he saw the other soldier’s expression drop, and he realized Pendleton and Britney were at the door listening to his tirade. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just I’ve worked so hard to get where I am, and this seems like a diversion or a stalling point.”
Pendleton looked at Britney and then back at Tennent. “Well, you’ve managed to mix West Midlands with North London. Then you moved on to West Country and Yorkshire accents. I do have to compliment you on your Cockney. It was spot on, but that’s probably a byproduct of breeding, I would assume.”
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