Private didn't really mind when people laughed at his name. Not Private. His real one, Percy. Some said it was so stereotypically British, others that it sounded stupid or silly. He really loved his name, because his mother chose it for him.
His mother had loved fairy tales and stories with damsels in distress and brave knights that save them, just like Private does now. She had chose his name after her favourite knight, Perceval, one of King Arthur's legendary men, in the hope that some of his nobility and chivalry will transfer to her son with it.
2. Phone call
Skipper was in the kitchen fixing himself the second cup of joe of the day, when the phone in the HQ's living room started ringing. He eyed it, but decided to let the machine answer it. He waited stirring his coffee.
As soon as the answering message ended a high pitched, warbly female voice rang through. Skipper startled and the coffee in his mug sloshed lazily about.
'Hi, Rico! It's me Shelly, in case you forgot. I wrote a poem for you this time! "Thine eyes…"'
Before the piece of … art could go any further, Skipper pushed a button on the phone and the living room was restored to silence. He went to the stairs that led to the first floor where their sleeping quarters were and yelled.
'Rico, your stalker called again!' The only answer he got in return was an 'Oh, brother!'
3. Interpreter needed
Kowalski had noticed this before. Every time they ran into Hans, after a few minutes he and Skipper would start conversing in Danish and leave them out of the loop. Comparing it with English and with the German he knew (quite well, if he could say so himself) he could make a very little more sense of the language. But it was still better than nothing. By the words that he could vaguely distinguish it didn't sound like they were fighting or being aggressive at all. Something else was nagging him, though. Who taught Skipper Danish in the first place?
4. Car keys
Skipper came back inside the HQ patting his trouser pockets, then his jacket pockets.
'Rico, do you have the car keys?'
He expected the other man to toss him the keys or something along those lines, but nothing happened.
'I'm waiting, soldier!'
'Oh! I fooled with some chemicals in Kowalski's lab while he wasn't looking. Long story short, I can't move my arms for 2 to 6 hours.'
'Give me strength!' Skipper said pinching the bridge of his nose. 'Where are the keys, you health and safety menace!'
'In my pants pocket.'
'Of course.' Gritting his teeth, Skipper pushed his hand in Rico's left pocket trying not to make eye contact, while the other man was watching him calmly with the beginning of a smile playing on his scarred lips. After about thirty seconds of his commanding officer fumbling about in his pants he said.
'My other pocket.'
Hans was a difficult prisoner. Not in the sense that he would withhold information or he would become violent. No! He was a picky eater. Sometimes it was really hard to get some of the Danish dishes he asked for. Skipper was pretty sure he did it on purpose. But he also didn't want to see him go on a hunger strike just because he was a headstrong twat. What he absolutely refused to give him, though, were open sandwiches.