0400h. 8th JUN. 1944 - London. DDay +2
Magda and Viola discuss the night's events, among other things.
It had been a long night. She had been insulted, demeaned, her CO had almost gotten killed, and Magda had shot a werewolf. Mentally, she was still chewing the evening over, and it didn't put her in the mood for a meal, or anything else other than a stiff mattress and a stiffer drink. While everyone else was worrying over Foley's injuries or the werewolf's accommodations, Magda bypassed them all and crawled into her bunk. She laid on her back, facing the ceiling. After a minute, she reached under her pillow and pulled out her flask. She gave it a shake, and the flask made a satisfying sloshing sound.
Viola stepped into the room, looking anything but composed. Her hand kept wandering to her hair to smooth stray pieces down, and she had an absent-minded look to her. The evening's events had left her more drained than anything else, her initial surprise at seeing the werewolf now dissipating towards acceptance mixed with a mild sense of disbelief. "Broken arms, but he'll be okay," she offfered in Magda's direction.
"Alive to taunt another day." Magda took a swig from her flask and hissed as the whiskey burned its way down her throat. This was the cheap stuff. "You look like hell, toots."
"Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself," Viola replied with a dry smile. She began to change for bed, "Fighting a werewolf does wonderful things for one's complexion." A beat, "Good job, today. Think you might have saved our lives."
"That Vetz. If he hadn't gotten me the silver bullets I requisitioned, we'd all be wolf chow."
"Ah, silver bullets. Good to know that fairy tales are also educational." Now in her nightdress, she crawled into her bed. "We should thank him in the morning."
"Already did. And they're not fairy tales." Magda's arm dropped down to Viola's level, flask in-hand. "You look like you could use a drink too."
Viola looked at it for a second, shrugged, and took the flask from her. "Thank you," she said and drank from it. "So you know a lot about these fairy tales that are not fairy tales?" She handed the flask back to Magda.
Magda's arm disappeared up to the top bunk again. "I've read up on it."
"I'm guessing you're not referring to story books."
"Nope." Magda took another drink.
"Care to elaborate?" Viola wasn't sure if Magda was being secretive or obtuse.
She didn't say anything at first, and it was difficult to tell if Magda was thinking over her response, or if she was simply not going to answer at all. "I'll put it this way. You were raised with Santa Claus, right?"
"I think most children are. Yes, I was raised to believe in Santa Claus."
"I was raised with Weihnachtsmann. Christmas Man. Same thing. And then one day I found out it was my parents all along."
"Everyone finds that out, too." Pause, "What does this have to do with your reading material, if you don't mine me asking?"
"You and the werewolf today, you were the small child who wakes up early on Christmas to discover her parents putting the presents under the tree. I'm the kid who finds out on her own at school. Fairy tales passed certain unpleasant truths from generation to generation, but they're the kiddie versions. Most people never have to get the adult version, and good for them." The sound of whiskey sloshing around in a flask punctuated Magda's last sentiment.
Viola mulled over Magda's words quietly, wondering what was behind the hard tone in the other woman's voice. On a hunch, she asked, "When did you start working for the 55th?"
"When I got off that airplane, same as you. Why, you think I secretly outrank Foley, but just put up with his shit for laughs?"
Viola shook her head, before she realised that Magda couldn't see her. "Point. You just seemed to have more experience in these matters."
"I guess they put me here for a reason," said Magda. "What about you? How'd you get stuck with us?"
"Got sick of being capable and still being treated like a 'skirt.' I volunteered. Ironic, huh?" Viola chuckled drily.
"I guess Foley missed that telegraph." Magda let out a long sigh. "I have to wonder, what Foley's plan was. Did he think that bit with the werewolf was going to have a happy ending?"
"He doesn't
look stupid," Viola said thoughtfully. "I'm not sure what he was trying to do, but if I had to guess, I think that the plan was to capture the wolfman all along; he might have been trying to skip the fight part of 'fight and capture'." A beat, "I have a feeling that Foley's not the kind of man to share his plans readily."
"Or form plans at all," Magda added.
Viola chuckled, "Or that." There was a rustle of paper as Viola took a fresh sheet from her box and picked up her pen.
Magda took another drink.
