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Post by LT. ALDO RAINE. on Sept 4, 2009 19:02:03 GMT
Aldo looked around the camp as he smiled slightly to himself. He was going to have a little drinking session with the guys and he truly couldn't wait because these guys had become like his brothers over the passed few months. He didn't have any brothers or sisters back home so this was a nice little change for him, he had close friends which classed him as a brother sometimes. He had a lot of people here who he had befriended and knew it would be a bit sad when the war ended because he wouldn't see these guys every day, he couldn't just wake up and hang with them and have a couple of brewskis, he would have to phone them up, ask them when they were free and find a date all of them could make and a place they would all be able to visit, after all, this war could cause money problems after the whole thing was over and done with and he kind of hated the idea of that. He didn't want to have to do all that planning and time consuming work when he could easily stay at war and constantly be with his friends. On the other hand, he wished the war was over, he hated to whole idea of these Nazis running around having their way with women and being able to do what they wish with the people in the towns just because they had a uniform. God damn it, he had a uniform and he didn't go around raping poor innocent French woman and beating innocent French men to death. No, he was a nice guy, one of the good ones, unlike these people here.
Sighing as he opened his trunk, he had no idea where anything was. He needed to tidy it up a little bit, but then again, what was the point, he would just get it messy once again and he would be stuffed. He really should allow the women around here to tidy up all the time because it just made things easier if everything was tidy, but they would have to tidy up near enough every couple of hours because these guys were messy! What did you expect from a bunch of manly guys who had no regard for hygine or tidiness. He had heard Elizabeth saying she would tidy up sometimes, but every time she did, it just go very messy again, so he thinks she might have given up, he didn't blame her to be honest, she was just kind of wasting time, but then what else did they have to do really. Killing time and killing Nazis. Finally he had gotten to the bottom of his trunk and he found that good ol' Moonshine that he loved to make back home. It had got him into a few problems but, hey, what did it matter, he wasn't at home any more, he was in France and he could make Moonshine as much as he wanted and he could enjoy it with some good friends of his. They were going to have a little chill session with the Moonshine, they needed it, hell, they deserve it.
He finally got the Moonshine set out and the tin mugs were clean for once, so all he had left to do was get the fire started so they could keep warm during this slightly bitter night. He lit the fire, not problem, it was keeping it alight that was the hard part. He prodded the fire slightly and then it was finally going and he smiled to himself, the embers were burning brightly and a few floated up into the air just to land right back on the fire. He liked it this way because it usually meant that there was no chilling winds, that and the fact he would get any flying onto his face which always bugged him. Sure he wasn't the most good looking man in the world, but he liked to keep his image the way it was, with his very charismatic scar, well, that's how he described. "I ain't waitin' all night lads," he called out to the Basterds around him. "Otherwise I will be drinking this dee-licious Moonshine all to maself," he said with a little smirk upon his lips.
status ••, finished.
tag ••, those darn basterds XD
word count ••, 718
appearance ••, here!
notes ••, all the basterds having a moonshine session XD
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Post by SGT HUGO STIGLITZ on Sept 4, 2009 19:31:40 GMT
Moonshine had been the calling and it seemed that since they did not have a job to do that night, everyone could relax some and have a drink. Knowing the boss, Aldo would have everything prepared for a good drinking session, although the question was: was there enough alcohol to get all of the basterds drunk? Sure there were not too many of them and moonshine had one hell of a reputation of kicking you in the pants, but all of the basterds were fairly sturdy men. It was not like there would be a bunch of lightweights, they had mastered the art of drinking.
Of course, Hugo would have preferred some bier, but some nice moonshine was a rare little treat from the boss. He was sitting on where he slept, a little cot, not much, with just a little blanket or sheet or whatever the hell you wanted to call it, when he heard Aldo's call. His typical walk down memory lane had been in progress and he was remembering those days that scarred his back, literally. One thing was for sure: don't interrupt Hugo when he was in one of those moods, but it was a call for him to come, it was not like someone slapped him on the back and said 'eh mate'.
Slowly, he got to his feet and walked over to the pit. First things first, he took one of the mugs and poured himself some moonshine, making a small nod towards Aldo as he sat down to let him know he heard him and was ready for some drinkin'. Maybe a few short words to say would be nice, but Hugo could not think of any for the life of him, nothing small talkish that is, he was never very good at small talk so he did not keep on of those handy dandy mental notebooks of common small talk conversation starters, instead that section of his brain was filled with memories. And they weren't good ones.
"Clear?" he asked, finally coming up with something to ask, even though it was not exactly conversational. Still, it was nice to ask if the coast was clear, even if he could just look around for himself. He took a drink and decided to say something a bit more situationally accepted: "How much of this you got?" His English was not perfect, but it would do.
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Post by SGT DONNY DONOWITZ. on Sept 10, 2009 0:04:01 GMT
 oh show me the way to the next whiskey bar. oh, don't ask why.The one thing Donny liked about this war so far were the people he was fighting it with. And the fact that he got to use some of his baseball skills for a good cause. But the Basterds defiantely were a great group of guys. They were his brother pretty much and he would do just about anything for them. Usually, they spent their time fighting and planning some more fighting but tonight Aldo wanted to take the night off and just sit back and have a couple of drinks with his men. And Donny really wasn't going to complain.
He strolled out of his tent with a big grin on his face. He had known Aldo and the boys for a while now and he had yet to see any of them drunk. Hugo might get violent but Aldo would definately be entertaining. Even from a distance he could hear the Leiutenant calling out for everyone to come have some of his Moonshine. Donny had had Moonshine before and it wasn't so bad and he would still take a whiskey or a beer anyday, but Moonshine was alright considering the situation.
"On my way, boss!" he shouted back, his Boston accent apparent. He chuckled a bit and followed Hugo into where Aldo was with his Moonshine. Sure enough there was the Lieutenant with a big old grin on his face getting the drinks ready. And there was Hugo actually drinking it. That was a shocker. Donny would have thought the big guy would want to stay sober or only drink beer or something. But there he was gulping his drink.
Donny walked over and clapped the German on the back. "Hey buddy." he said and then grabbed a drink of his own. He grabbed a mug and poured himself some Moonshine and took a sip. "Whoo! That's pretty damn strong, Aldo." he said with a grin. It wasn't half bad. It still was no beer but it wasn't half bad.
Words: 328
Tagged: Them Basterds
Notes: xD
Lyrics: Alabama Song by the Doors |
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Post by LT. ALDO RAINE. on Sept 13, 2009 14:47:21 GMT
Aldo was used to listening to broken English, he had got used to it. Well, let's face it, the people he used to live with didn't exactly speak the best of English either, they spoke it with so many grammatical errors and wouldn't usually be corrected, unless Elizabeth was around, but she wasn't. He had purposely sent her away so they could have a lads night in, well, it was actually out because they were outside, but it was in because they were at their home, the place they lived so technically they were in, such a strange thought to cross his mind.
A smile came across his lips as Hugo sat down beside him, taking a mug and taking a drink. Hugo wasn't exactly the kind of guy you could have a conversation with and he wasn't the type you would take home and tell your parents he was one of your best friends, he was just a guy you would admire from afar because of the way he murdered the Nazis. He asked his question and Aldo nodded. "Checked maself," he said in his typical thick hillbilly accent. He took a gulp of his drink himself and smiled to himself, Moonshine always tasted better when you were the one making it yourself. "I got enough to knock the spots off a leopard," he said, grinning a little more, that was always something his father said when they spoke of how strong their Moonshine was, it was also code to those close friends that they had a new batch ready for them to drink.
"On my way boss!" Those words rung through the camp and he knew exactly who's voice it was, Donny Donowitz. You could never mistake that voice because the distinct sound of a Bostonite, something he had never really heard that much back home but now he was in the spoils of war, he heard it every day and it would be something he would probably miss. In all reality, he would probably miss all of them, even Hugo! But, being a soldier, and a typical guy, he would deal with it and get over it because if he didn't he would look like a bit of an idiot. Another small gulp of his home made Moonshine and a small smile came to his lips once again, it reminded him of home, his parents, his great brothers and that beauty that he was getting closer to asking out.
Aldo looked up and The Bear Jew was there, hitting a German on the back, and Aldo couldn't help but flinch slightly, it wasn't noticable, but he was a little worried hugo would just turn around a take out Donny, after all, you didn't touch Hugo, Aldo learnt that the easy way, he watched him and knew how he would react. He watched as Donny took a drink, curious to know his reaction. He smiled slightly. "Well, it was made in the smoky mountains of Maynardville by the hands of the Raine's themselves, what d'ya expect Donny," he said smiling lightly as he settled on the log he was sat upon a little more. This was the life.
status ••, finished.
tag ••, those darn basterds XD
word count ••, 527.
appearance ••, here!
notes ••, ah, fun drinking times ^^
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Post by PFC. BLAIR EVANS. on Sept 14, 2009 3:02:23 GMT
 * i'm feeling alive all over again ,as deep as the sky that's under my skin .- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Blair was in own area of serenity about a quarter mile deeper into the woods, away from the main Basterds camp. For the past couple of weeks he had been tinkering with some highly sensitive explosives, strong and potent enough to take out a Panther tank. He, of course, was very careful and a particular expert in the field, and was fully confident with the explosive material. He had made safety perimeters and precautions that insured safety with his knowledgeable methods. They had all been hidden in a bunker the basterd had created himself with a rusty shovel and some dynamite. Aldo had never really approved of the whole explosives gig; he was more of the old fashioned scalper.
But as much as Blair advocated scalping, he was very adamant on other weaponry that could take out as many Nazis as efficiently as possible. Besides, he and the lieutenant had always batted heads. He wasn’t trying to be defiant; he just battled with Raine’s methods and commanding personality. The only other person besides him who had known about his side project was Lizzie, but Blair trusted she wouldn’t say anything. She was really one of the only people in the Basterds group that he truly trusted. I mean, he respected all the guys, but she was different.
Blair finished the touches on his sleek grenade, tinkering it with a metal wire and his spidery, thin fingers. Wearing his thick examination glasses, he curiously stared at the intricate design of the explosive, bending some coils and wires gently, coyly manipulating them to form a different reaction code. His hair was dirty and grimy from the days without a clean shower. His face was covered in rough stubble, and his clothes was covered in mud stains and smelled like must. He rarely rested since his family was damaged by the Nazis. He couldn’t rest until he saw every one of those filthy animals put down and burned in hellfire. Sure, it was kind of psychotic, but he felt as if he had strong justification. Blair stared down at the grenade, holding it in the palm of his hand as he crouched over his modified table, finishing the final works to his fifteenth dangerous explosive of the month.
His bunker was ten feet down into the ground, dirt walls all around. There was a makeshift wooden ladder that he used to climb in and out, but he generally just jumped and pulled himself up or jumped down into the hole. There was a small makeshift table, a stool, and a toolbox carrying his explosive equipment. The hole was covered in ferns and thorn bushes, leaving any knowledgable individual prone to avoiding the hidden hole.
Blair put the grenade down on the table and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his ragged bomber jacket, sighing gently as he completed his work. It was a beautiful thing, really. He took a breather, sitting down on the wooden stump stool for a few minutes. Blair then stood up, brushing the fallen dirt off his jacket and then picked the spherical object up, placing it in a box hidden underneath the table. He covered it with a grimy cloth on the table, making sure the grenade’s pin was securely in place.
The basterd then hoisted himself up out of the whole, pulling himself up with his upper body. Long missions with the basterds had peaked his physical condition, strong, lean, sturdy muscles replacing the skin and bones he used to be. He smiled faintly as he thought of all the physical training he had to do in order to be ready for the reconnaissance missions.
He felt the cold frosty air bite his face as he covered it in his raggedy cotton scarf, looking around the dark night for any predators. He then exhaled a frosty breath into the air before stretching his legs. It was a bitter night, for sure, and he hoped someone had bothered to make a fire back at camp. Blair bushwacked through the thick, prickly foliage as headed back into main camp.
Walking into main camp, Blair spotted some of the basterds hanging around, but most of them heading towards a group of specific individuals. He immediately spotted Aldo, Donowitz and the German Hugo, sitting around a warm fire and drinking some Moonshine. Blair’s tongue immediately felt dry as he remembered the strong, powerful alcohol’s distinct taste. It sure put the hair on a man’s chest. He stalked over to the campfire, and took an empty seat on a rotten log. He reached for a mug and the bottle, pouring himself some of that moonshine, smelling the pungent aroma.
He smiled as he raised his mug in a cheers gesture before sipping the drink. Blair coughed loudly, realizing how much stronger the drink was then he remembered. His face turned slightly red, wheezing at the powerfully aromatic alcohol. "Strong 'shine, eh, Aldo? This one’s got some extra razz, if ya ask me." The boy downed another shot of the powerful alcohol, inhaling the powerful taste, this time prepared for the extreme effect. Blair winced as he saw Donowitz slap Stiglitz on the back. He knew that the ignorant American would have to learn the German's wrath the hard way.
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Post by SGT HUGO STIGLITZ on Sept 17, 2009 13:30:06 GMT
Knocking the spots off a leopard, quite an interesting way to put things. Truly, American's had such an odd way of phrasing things, it was almost as if in order to speak English, you needed to know the literal phrases and then learn their second language, their lingo. It just seemed like many of their words found a way to slur together and dance around some kind of translation that would make no sense unless you spoke the lingo. Still, he got the idea, although he wondered how alcohol could be responsible for a leopard's spots.
That was besides the point, as he went to drink some more, bringing the mug up to his grim face, a familiar voice weaved through the camp, the Boston voice. Since Hugo was not from the States, he could not distinguish which parts people were from, but he could definitely tell that Donny and Aldo were from different parts of America and Donny typically mentioned Boston. Of course, Aldo had that home-loving air to him, something about Apache Indians and such, but where ever the hell they were located, Hugo hadn't seen an Indian in Germany.
When Donny reached the guys, a large hand smacked Hugo's back and he had to clench his teeth. Touching was not something he was a customed to nor was it something he enjoyed and his attention snapped back up to Donny, the Bear Jew. He would have been the Beaten Jew if he had not been considered one of the few 'friends' in Hugo's life. An impulse to turn and send a fist right into Donny's face twitched at Hugo's fingers, but they remained clenched around his mug, a bit tighter than they were before the physical contact. What really set him off guard was the term he used. Buddy? Wasn't a bud a flower before it blooms? Did Donny really call him a flower?
"Buddy?" he gruffly asked, the snarl forming at the ends of his mouth. While the two respected each other for being basterds, it seemed that Donny liked to pull a few things that teetered on Hugo's border of obnoxious and good friendly fun, that is, if Hugo even knew how 'good friendly fun' happened. He muttered something in German into his cup and looked around, everyone seemed tense, like they were ready for a fight, but so far, Donny had only made Hugo frown, maybe get a little bit annoyed, nothing worth a fight.
"What?" he asked, meeting everyone's eyes with a cold 'stop looking at me, dammit' glare. He would need to get used to being around these guys in a joking manner, but it did not mean he had to participate in that 'joke' part. They were at least much more entertaining to watch than the Germans with their curt movements, like knifes through butter.
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Post by PFC. SMITHSON UTIVICH on Sept 20, 2009 20:04:28 GMT
Smithson was scrolling through his trunk, trying to find something quite useful. He flicked through the letters, scrolls and pictures his parents in America sent him. He tried finding life within them but he couldn't find anything. His trunk was a mess. He hadn't cleaned up in quite a while. He flicked through the diaries and clothes. He hadn't washed any of his clothes in a really long time either. He pushed all the clothes away and picked up a letter from his mother. Typical mothers, their sons are all grown up and yet still they tell them what to do.
He sighed and put everything away. He could not bare looking at them again. It just reminded him of home. He tried to push away those filthy thoughts but they just wouldn't go away. His mother had to understand. He wasn't with her right now, he was off fighting. She had to understand that no matter what occurred or it would just continue haunting the poor woman. His father tried calming her but nothing really worked out for them both. His sister was off in Poland somewhere but he had no idea where.
The young man quickly closed his trunk and climbed out of the tent where he found the other basterds. He walked over to where they stood and sat and sat himself down on a nearby log. He watched as they drunk down their Moonshine. He wasn't a particular fan of alcohol and men sometimes made fun of this oddity of his. He kept himself quiet for the lingering seconds. "Moonshine, eh? He decided to say something instead of keeping quiet all the time. "Heard that one's quite strong." He looked up at the skies up above. |
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Post by SGT DONNY DONOWITZ. on Sept 24, 2009 20:01:45 GMT
oh show me the way to the next whiskey bar. oh, don't ask why. Donny laughed. God, just listening to the wya Aldo talked was enough to make him laugh. He took pride in his Moonshine, and he had a right to, it pretty damn good. "Ya have a point. But still, this was stronger then I expected." he said, light-heartedly. The first time he had had Moonshine, he threw-up. It was way too stong for him but after being with Aldo for so long he had gotten used to it and now, he actually enjoyed it.
He took another gulp of his drink and winced. Aldo had overdone it a bit this time. He looked up from his glass at the sound of Hugo's voice. "Yeah, "buddy". You know, like "friend"? he replied. He noticed that everyone had tensed up when he clapped Hugo on the back. Hugo had a reputation for being a bit crazy about that but Donny didn't care. To him, Hugo was a teddy bear. He seemed a bit menacing but he really wasn't. At least Donny thought so.
Two more men entered the tent, Evans and Utivich. The only thing that Donny knew about Evans was that he was a Brit. Utivich seemed alright but he didn't know him too well either. As they entered, Donny waved to them. "Hey fellas! What took ya so lang?" he asked with a huge grin.
Words: 252
Tagged: Them Basterds
Notes: xD
Lyrics: Alabama Song by the Doors |
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Post by LT. ALDO RAINE. on Sept 27, 2009 21:19:08 GMT
Aldo was glad that he could get all his Basterds in one place to have this little drinking session, a bonding exercise if you will to keep everyone's spirits up and their fears down. He watched as the British Basterd came to join them, Blair. He didn't mind the company of this young fellow, but sometimes he could find him slightly annoying, as he did with most British people. He seemed to be close to Elizabeth, so he didn't insult or tease him because he knew he would get a high heel in the eye from her and that was something he really didn't feel like he wanted. He was also the youngest Basterd and you just didn't pick on little kids, something Aldo was firm on as he tended to be the one who protected the younger crowd, he was typically a protector, something he was probably born to do. "I think it's been fermenting for a month or two, so it's gonna have that lil extra kick," he said grinning slightly. He finally topped up his own mug, being the only one who could probably drink this all day, after all, he was raised on this stuff.
Knowing when to look away was a trait Aldo had gotten from his mother. When you were a woman in Tennessee, you needed to know when to ignore the men around because another male could ask you what happened and you would have to tell, but if you looked away, you was as safe as a baby in a crib. Hugo had questioned Donny what the word Buddy meant, but Aldo wasn't going to interrupt and answer the question for him because it was Donny's problem, he was the one stupid enough to use American words with a man who had only just about stepped foot out of Germany to France, he certainly hadn't moved out of Europe. His eyes moved to his mug, watching the small swirls of the clear liquid that brought a smile to his lips, but he avoided eye contact with Hugo as he looked at the other Basterds who were still staring and questioned what they were looking at.
After being joined by the English Basterd, they were joined soon by Smithson, a lad with a strange name, but he never pushed the fact as he was always pleasant enough. He watched as he sat down and smiled politely at the young Basterd. He waited for him to speak and then he finally did and smile came to Aldo's lips. "Moonshine, strong is an understatement, this tasty beverage would be sure to kick an alcoholic in the balls," he said, that beautiful Tennessee smirk playing on those fine lips of his. He knew he almost spoke another language, even to the American Basterds, but what did he care, he was having too much darn fun. "Care to join us and taste ma bee-you-tee-ful Moonshine?" he asked him, pouring some Moonshine into the clean mug he found, handing it over to Utivich with a little smile.
Aldo heard Donny's comment and it sent a smile to his lips, he did love his Moonshine and the effects it had on the people around him. He did have a slightly morbid curiosity as to what Elizabeth would be like if she ever drank the amazing Moonshine he made for his male companions, he had actually never given a woman Moonshine, so she would be the first and she would be the last knowing Aldo if she ever drank it. Donny had answered Hugo's question and the air seemed to clear, now Aldo could breath a feel a little better about the attitudes the Basterd's had with each other. "It's nice to see fellas can get along with some good Moonshine by a good ol' camp fire," he said, smiling as he took another swill of his own mug of Moonshine.
status ••, finished.
tag ••, those darn basterds XD (blair, hugo, smithson, donny)
word count ••, 648.
appearance ••, here!
notes ••, i'm loving this thread XD
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Post by SGT HUGO STIGLITZ on Sept 28, 2009 17:22:14 GMT
Donny caught on that Hugo had no idea what 'buddy' meant and he resonded in his usual upbeat manner, as if nothing had gone wrong and Hugo was the stupid one for not knowing what the hell 'buddy' meant. Well fine, if Donny really wanted to play that game, he was in for the count, just more of a German accent to the game. "Ya, buddy. Arschgesicht? Ya?" His German was harsh and thick and the best part was that Donny did not know any German, so calling him an asshole and making it sound like he was saying 'buddy' in German should fly right over Donny's head, along with many of the other Basterds who were drinking as well.
Donny winced at the taste of the Moonshine and it was Hugo's cue to laugh. "Muschi! Enjoying the taste, ya?" he laughed. It was always good to see a man wince at the taste of alcohol. Of course, Hugo would have preferred some bier, but hell, if Aldo enjoyed some moonshine, then he would have some too and keep the facial expressions down to a minimum. Wincing at a man's moonshine was like gagging on a woman's homemade apple pie, you just didn't do it. Although, sometimes it was a compliment because it informed Aldo that he did a damn good job.
Utivich entered the group of men, but Hugo kept his eyes on Donny before returning them to his own cup to have some more. Moonshine: known to make men piss themselves after two shots of it. Still, Hugo could take twenty biers, hell, he could take as many shots of this as possible, but the effects were already twitching at him. First came the warm insides, the hot lungs, the slight sting in the throat. Damn well done, Aldo.
The Apache himself spoke up, rather harshly that is, as if English were not hard enough to understand for the German Stiglitz. Trying to figure out Aldo's accent was like trying to find ears on a fish while it's still under water in a great big wide ocean, sometimes, it was just best to let it be and just nod like he understood. He caught the last bit, about sitting around enjoying moonshine and a fire. Still, would be better with bier, but at least they were having some fun. What the hell would a group of Basterds do while drunk anyways?
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Post by PFC. BLAIR EVANS. on Oct 1, 2009 3:23:56 GMT
* i'm feeling alive all over again ,as deep as the sky that's under my skin .- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Blair looked away when Hugo coldly stared at the onlookers. He was surprised at the German’s reaction, where he was usually accustomed to the German reacting in sadistic violent ways. Although Blair wasn’t really scared of too much anymore, he was a little uneasy around that crazy son-of-a-bitch Kraut. Blair respected him for his Basterd connection, but something about him made the Brit feel a little uneasy. The messyhaired Basterd looked down into his cup’s crystalline surface, bringing it above his face and swigging it down his throat. He felt the heavy liquid envelop his throat in a strong burning sensation. He loved the dry aroma and taste of moonshine. Ever since he had been introduced to it by some American lad he was hooked. He even in fact occasionally preferred it to conventional ale or beer.
He watched Utivich walk over. Utivich seemed like a nice bloke, even though he seemed a little quiet. He had chatted with the fellow Basterd a couple of times and came to the conclusion that he was a decent fellow. Blair wasn’t exactly the most social of people, save when he was around those he trusted. He was more of a 1-on-1 interaction-type of guy which meant he didn’t like large rowdy crowds. Of course, he had to adjust to his surroundings and open up a little bit more, but most of the time his sardonic sarcasm and sharp wit came across as rudeness. ”Ah Utivich, you pansy, it puts some bloody hair on your chest. You scalp Nazis for Christ’s sake, you might as well fucking drink some shine, eh?” He chuckled out loud looking out into the distance, looking at Smithson once before taking another gulp of the fiery alcohol. He of course was joking, but it would probably rub off the wrong way. Ah, who gave a damn, anyways. The Basterds were an abrasive enough group to take that 'colorful language'.
Donowitz asked him where he had been. The Brit shrugged quickly, trying to avoid any suspicious answers. He was already on thin ice with the Lieutenant and didn’t really want to get into more trouble. ”Just hanging around and taking care of some odds and ends, Blair said casually. Aldo then said, "I think it's been fermenting for a month or two, so it's gonna have that lil extra kick.” Blair laughed again as he looked on at Aldo. Lt. Raine was a great leader to the Basterds, and Blair didn’t disagree with his motives. He just disagreed with the way he carried out his motives. His leadership seemed old-fashioned and arrogant, perhaps a little abrasive. Blair preferred sleek, fast, well-planned attacks while Aldo seemed to prefer reckless, sadistic Nazi-killing sprees. I mean, it worked, but Blair just didn’t really think it was the wisest choice. Aldo and Blair got along in the sense that they were both Basterds, but they also clashed a lot. He remembered at one point Aldo had almost involved himself in a fistfight with the Brit, but that Elizabeth had broke up the pair. The two reconciled, but he knew they weren’t really on the best of terms. “Aye Aldo, this stuff’s got some nasty kick.”
Blair heard Hugo call Donny an asshole and laughed heartily out loud, almost spilling some of his moonshine. That was one of the advantages and disadvantages of knowing multiple languages. He could understand things most could not, but he could also hear conversations he wish he hadn’t heard. This of course was one of the advantage moments. A job well done, Hugo.
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