Late night arrival - countryside (open)

He got off the lorry at what he reckoned was a "safe" distance to town, giving the driver a light nod of his head and a smile as he gently touched the brim of his sixpence before watching him drive off. Two hours on the back of any truck could be considered less than comfortable, but at least it had saved him some time. And time, it would seem, was the one thing he did not currently have too much of to spare.
Three, three and a half hours until dawn?

The youth, dressed much like any other average working class teenager, lifted his worn and faded green duffle bag onto a shoulder and corrected the six pence slightly so that the brim was pulled down low. He had a broad scarf around his neck, which rested in such a way as to hide part of his lower face and which, in combination of the shadow cast by the hat, helped obscure his features somewhat.
No need to start off by drawing attention now was it?
A single teenager by himself, in slightly worn clothes, with seemingly little to his name except the bag he was carrying on the other hand ought to be able to pass through relatively unnoticed. Maybe.

He pulled at his jacket slightly and adjusted the stuffed bag as he walked with a relaxed step, one hand tucked in his pocket, seemingly looking for nothing special.

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ooc: the Countryside forum was locked for threads soo....

Yes, the town. The town was what she was concerned about. Madeira had been spending most of her time patrolling-- no matter how odd it seemed. She was a hunter, after all.

She stood in the shadow of a street corner and watched the lorries come and go, the people come and go. It was easier to do as the night wore on.

Her features were obscured by a large hat and scarf, covering her face in shadow. Her long, brown leather coat was closed. She was leaning up against the brick wall of a building, the tips of her boots just barely visible in a thin stream of light.

She was simply watching... And the teenager? They kept getting younger and younger.

Younger and younger, that was how wars were fought weren't they? When the veterans started dieing, they sent in the recruits. And when they died, well... the younger they became.

A mess of hazel hair could be seen under the hat, though his eyes remained hidden beneath the shadow cast by the brim through a bit of careful movements. The youth seemingly knowing how to move and where to move in order to make the most of it.
He did stop though for a moment to pat his pockets as if in search of something. Not necessarily out of place, but perhaps to the trained eye it would be enough to pick up on one little detail that didn't go with his outfit: his hands.
Those manicured nails and slender fingers did not belong to any worker... unless the youth could claim to be a watch makers apprentice or jeweler at least.

A few seconds later he'd found what he was looking for as he pulled a half crushed pack of cigarettes from a pocket, lifted it to his lips to pull out one cigarette with his teeth and then pocketed the pack again before producing a match which was lit with the flick of a wrist on a nearby wall.

The light would've briefly lit up his face, though a light dip of his head was enough to obscure any such thing. At best all that could be seen was a flash of blue eyes when he drew his breath and caused the embers to briefly flare.

At least he had a good idea. Though her smoke of choice once lit had a slightly different aroma. Unprocessed tobacco and jimson weed permeated the air almost immediately as the lit match hit the end of the dark wrapped stick.

Madeira's head dipped as she lit the cigarette, the wide brim of the cowboy hat shielding the light from her face.

Curious, she thought as her eyes scanned the teenager's hands. Running to or running from?

Casually she stood, waiting for the youth to pass by her, watching closely. And frankly, not really trying to hide it.

The match was thrown aside, left to fizzle and die in a small puddle by the sidewalk before he moved again, tucking his free hand back in the pocket of his trousers while the other held onto the duffle bag resting over his right shoulder. If he'd noticed her or not though was anyone's guess as he made no apparent gestures as to suggest one or the other.
His feet carrying him with a liquid, nearly soundless step as he moved past her. The youth's head slightly lowered so to keep his features in the shadows though perhaps, just perhaps there was another glimmer of steel blue eyes flickering her way as he drew his breath again and exhaled to let out a thin line of smoke that briefly lingered in the air behind him like a trail before dispersing to the winds.

It seemed as if immediately she fell in step behind him, trailing him by just a few footfalls. And just loud enough to be noticed.

A grin eased onto her lips as she looked him over from behind, judging his movement carefully. Almost as if she was debating...

"Dunkirk may not be the most inviting port of call right now, boy..." Came her soft, almost whiper-soft tone behind the teen. Her French was not native by any means and did not roll as smoothly as the language would want. But aside from the abrupt intonation, there was nothing wrong with it.

//"Perhaps not"// came the answer in a tone of voice that, while not necessarily local, was most definitively native by the sound of it. //"But it's better than where I came from. And these days, where is a good place to be? Except far away from Europe?"//

He did not, however, stop. He simply kept walking without changing his pace or his relaxed movements, retaining instead the same calm body language as before even as he eased the cigarette from one corner of his lips to the other with a light nudge of his tongue.
//"Perhaps Miss would be kind enough though to point me in the direction of someplace I might inquire about lodging for a few nights?"// he threw a brief glance over his shoulder at her. That accent of his, most definitively a bit more upper class than average, though it sounded perhaps as if it had been watered out somewhat.

Her laugh was light but twinged with something slightly sinister.

"You don't have a few nights. The evacuation ahead of the Germans starts soon. You'd do well to keep moving. Find a boat willing to take you across the channel. Unless you're here to fight, of course..."

Madeira stepped up next to the teenager, walking right next to him and enjoying her cigarette.

"Away from Europe..." Another chuckle. "You can be away from the lands but never the people."

//"What reason would there be for anyone to come here, unless to fight?"// the youth took another breath of his cigarette, tilting his head slightly so to ensure the shadows kept hiding his features in the already dim light of night.
//"And excuse me for saying Miss, but you seem a bit out of place around here"//

"And you don't?"

The grin became wider, darker. But after a moment she merely shrugged.

"I suppose you at least look like you belong here. No one's ever questioned my placement here before. But I question yours... Only because you're making every effort to hide yourself."

//"Considering the current situation in the area, can you blame me?"// he said with a hint of a smirk to his tone of voice. //"I'm just trying to avoid trouble"// the youth added, something in his tone of voice suggesting that -she- was trouble.

"Me? Trouble?"

Oh, she was so right to follow this one.

"To be fair, if I wanted to be trouble for you, white boy, you would already have a knife in your back. I was just trying to give such a young one by all appearances a little friendly advice."

She stepped in front of Charlie, walking backwards like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"In town there are a few places. Make sure you inquire as to which areas of housing have deep basements-- just in case." She shrugged. "It will at least help you somewhat when the Germans finally do make their presence known. And keep your eyes open. They've already started parachuting in under the cover of night."

Madeira touched the brim of her hat, mumbling something about 'the Tower' in English under her breath before turning around ahead of the youth and continuing her walk.

"Which side of the fence?" he said as she turned around again, a distinct London accent to his British English which, again, sounded as native as the French as the words rolled off his tongue. The question did perhaps not make much sense. But who knew? She seemed to have pegged a few things by passing glances alone, so maybe she'd be kind enough to answer.

That got her attention. Her hand disappeared into her coat as she turned around and stopped, eyeing the boy closely, scrutinizing him.

"I am favored by the Tower-- a defender. You?"

She twitched, seemingly ready for anything.

He stopped, slowly lifting his free hand from his pocket and holding it up to show that he wasn't hiding anything and to make it clear that he was unarmed. The only thing currently in either hand was the carry straps to his duffel bag.
//"Hey... not looking for trouble, remember?"// once again having reverted back to his original French. //"And if you're a defender, then I haven't found trouble, have I?"// the youth lifted his head ever so slightly, just enough for steel blue eyes to become visible underneath the brim of his sixpence. The lower part of his face though was still hidden behind a brown scarf which heavy fabric barely moved in the mild breeze that swept down the street and tugged at his clothes.

She eased her hand slowly from her coat even as her dark eyes narrowed. Only when she took the large hat from her head and held it with both hands in front of her did her expression soften, her head leaned to one side.

"Then you should come with me. That is if you are indeed here to fight. If you intend to stay then we have to get you settled in. I can provide whatever you need and then you can be brought up to speed," she said quickly in English and softly to him. "Keep those baby blues of your open."

She turned back around-- actually seeming a little... relieved. She flicked the dying cigarette onto the ground and slipped her hat back on, leading him onward.

//"Excuse me for saying Miss, but I'm not one for hand outs, not even when offered out of sincere generousity or friendliness"// the youth said, lowering his hand but seemingly not about to move from the spot. //"You need not provide me with anything, though a nudge in the direction of a good place to sleep wouldn't go amiss. For the night I'd prefer to be left to my own, give me a chance to recuperate after a long journey, though come tomorrow, perhaps we could speak again? I could meet you right here, were we now stand, and you can fill me in on the situation"//
It seemed like a genuine enough offer.

She cocked an eyebrow to him, something amused her.

"And you would wander all but aimlessly looking for a place to lay your head for the day without first getting Hospitality from the authority in this city?"

Strike one.

//"I would simply think that with daylight only a couple of hours away and this being a war zone, one would be kind enough to give a weary traveller enough leeway not to have to put his trust in the hands of a stranger when going with her would leave no time to look for shelter afterwards"// he answered calmly. //"I don't plan on stepping on any tradition, but I have yet to meet someone so rigid they wouldn't allow a traveller a days rest to gather his thoughts before stating his cause before said authority. Specially when it's already been stated that I would come back here tomorrow to meet and present myself"

Madeira raised a hand and very carefully motioned a sign of the cross in the air over Charlie's person.

"Welcome to Dunkirk, then. Having the authority to grant you Hospitality, I do so now for the rest of this night and day."

She pulled a piece of paper from a back pocket that had been folded over several times. Inside was an address.

"You'll go there tomorrow night. The Prince will be waiting for you. Good luck, boy. I hope the rest of the night is kind to you."

He seemed to smile. Kind of hard to tell when most of his features were still obscured, but something in his eyes still suggested that he was smiling.
"//Thank you, Miss"// the youth said, closing the distance between them and reaching out to take the piece of paper with his left hand. Manicured, soft, slender, up close it was definitively not the hands of a worker.
"I'll be there tomorrow evening as soon as I can. May God watch your path"// he bowed his head.

"And may the ancestors of the Diné watch over you and protect you."

She nodded. "Tomorrow night..." Once again, noting his hands but then searching for his eyes. The look was brief but pointed. Something to look on her face seemed to suggest satisfaction.

She turned and with heavy booted feet kept on her walk.

And the youth? Well, he seemed to disappear from sight remarkably fast and silently.