quotes from tv shows to live by | the hour 1x01, written by abi morgan
never give up, freddie. never. if it’s something you truly care about, believe in, then you have to keep kicking back. let the rest of them give up if they must, but if that it is being a grown up… i’d rather stay twenty-one forever.
I hope you mean a crossover fic because that’s what you’re getting!
Trope 10: Truth and Dare
“Truth or dare?” asked George, humouring the two children on the floor in front of him. Ruthie was cross-legged by the fire, her hair in bunches, a doll clutched to her chest and observing him with the close, intense stare of the young. Her friend who was staying with them, almost five years older and at that awkward, leggy stage of adolescence, was sprawled on his back and staring at the ceiling.
“Truth,” replied Ruthie.
“Boring. Boring boring boring,” muttered her friend immediately and received a weak punch on the arm from the girl.
George ignored the bickering and tried to think of a suitable question for her. There were too many truths that were unsuitable for children in his mind. This lovely, little girl who could have been his sister if he had one did not need to know what life was really like for the dashing soldier who had come specially for her Sunday afternoon entertainment.
“Tell me the truth,” George said finally with a smile. “Aren’t I the best visitor you’ve had all winter?”
The boy pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Ridiculous question, Sargent Crawley. There’s no truth there, only opinion.”
George did not much like this Freddie Lyon who seemed to be some sort of permanent house guest of the Elmses though as far as he could tell was not officially evacuated. Perhaps there was some family connection.
“What would you ask then?” asked Ruthie, not unreasonably.
Freddie shrugged. “I wouldn’t play a stupid game and if I did, I wouldn’t say truth.”
“You’d rather do a dare?” asked George, a bit amused. The boy took himself terribly seriously.
“If I had to make a choice, yes. There’s nothing special about the truth.”
Freddie made a face. “There might be to you, Sargent, but I always tell the truth so no, there isn’t.”
“Then I’d dare you to tell a lie,” replied George easily.
“You could,” said Ruthie, “but it’s not your go, is it, Freddie? It’s my go! And yes, Sargent Crawley, you are by far the best visitor we’ve had all winter.”
She gave him a toothy grin and he couldn’t help grinning back, even if out of the corner of his eye he noticed the intense boy looking at him with narrow-eyed curiosity, as if he was a riddle to be deciphered.
We’re doing it for her, he thought to himself. For little girls with big smiles like Ruthie Elms. So that she can be safe.
And all of a sudden the existential angst of this blessedly innocent boy diminished in importance. After all, as his mother had always said, war made one distinguish between what mattered and what did not matter.