Tom and Brook
When Tom received the letter from Brook requesting assistance, he marched off in the usual man fashion, operating entirely on testosterone and not yet realizing that though he'd gotten permission to leave, he really should have stayed with his group because he was, in all the ways that mattered, the leader of the men.
However, he left a competent officer in charge, and said that he'd be back by tomorrow night--should be enough time, right? It was only Dorothea's sister, after all. What could she possibly need that would take so much of his time?
Running a hand through his hair and adjusting the care package slung under his arm, Tom swallowed nervously and forced himself to knock on the door. He'd never really met Dorothea's sisters before--or had he? He couldn't remember. Hell, he barely remembered Dorothea, with the minor exception of a few unforgettable photos courtesy of Cadeyrn. Thinking of the man, he wondered what the captain would do in this situation. Probably thrust the package into Brook's arms, give a few polite, vaguely chauvinistic words, and march back to duty.
Well, assuming he wasn't married to Brook's sister, but he was, so Cadeyrn would probably be stuck in this same exact position anyway. Marriage, psychotic brothers, and valued friendships tended to carry some weight over the needs of the military, dammit. Tom was only glad his superior officers seemed to understand, but then, he was still technically WIA and shouldn't have been fighting to begin with.
Adjusting the weight on his bad knee, he waited for Brook to answer. He was hungry and bored, and he wanted to be back with his men. He hoped this wouldn't last long...