timed to evening on the 8th

[soldier_singled]

Joe's pretty used to people having a problem with him. He's a fuckin' Jew who went to a fuckin' Catholic school, he's about the skinniest guy in the whole damn Paratroops and, Jesus Christ, people have a real problem forgetting that Hitler's from Austria too. Still, the last thing that Joe expected to ever have to get pissed off about is who he

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[aintthatbad]

The job shouldn't be too hard: all he'll have to do is follow the sound of whistling. Normally Skinny's happiest when he's in a group, but he's amenable to wandering off by himself when the mood strikes, and given his day so far, that might be the most self-preserving route he can take. That means he's strolling (and very consciously so) down one of the roads toward the beach, both hands in his pockets, rifle back in his room. The ocean's still a novelty, and somehow staring out at it makes his own thoughts, which are plenty dark, easier to shoulder.

He's no Bing Crosby, but his tunes are aimless and pleasant enough -- things he remembers from the radio and church, mostly. Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side, keep on the sunny side of life...

[soldier_singled]

Pretty used to the sound of Skinny whistling, it doesn't take too long for Joe to track him down. He breaks into a jog, sneakers slapping against the boardwalk as he catches up.

"Been lookin' for you," he says, coming alongside.

[aintthatbad]

He twists to look at Joe, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out what this is about. "Hey, Lieb," he says gamely, not slowing down. Not much else to say, is there?

[soldier_singled]

"What the hell'd you say to Webster?" says Joe, because, hey, either he's in this both fuckin' feet first or there ain't no point. He's a Paratrooper, ain't he? He's trained to jump without hesitating.

[soldier_singled]

"Sit your ass down in the chair," says Joe, moving about, getting his tools sorted, the adjoining door between the rooms pulled shut, which is rarely is anymore.

"You just want a haircut, or you want a shave too?"

[aintthatbad]

"Tough call. I trust you with my life, but do I trust you with a razor?" Skinny lowers himself into the seat, and finds himself surprised by how comfortable it is. "Damn, someone set you up with a nice racket here." He settles in. "Gimme the full package, why not. Not like I've got a pressing appointment somewhere."

[soldier_singled]

"I'm good with a razor," says Joe, picking up both scissors and comb and moving behind the chair. "Better than I am with a goddamn grenade, anyhow."

[aintthatbad]

"You got a lot better when Sobel wasn't around," he chuckles. "But really now, we don't have to talk about bodily harm while I'm here and you're there, do we?"