therealpm: (smug)
Not a bad month.

Now if only D'Souza would stop nagging me to turn up, everything would be perfect.
therealpm: (Mr Bond)
*Peter wakes early, still bouyed up by the election results and heads downstairs for a cup of tea and a yoghurt. His phone buzzes as the kettle boils. An update from The Machine.

Sipping his tea slowly, he scrolls through the results and nearly spills it everywhere when he reaches The Machine's conclusions, which have been carefully bolded so he can't possibly miss them. A quick enquiry confirms that the results have been double, triple and quadruple checked- there is no uncertainty.

Grinning, he types out a text message.*


Text from 07### ######

John,

your presence is required. ASAP.

-Peter


*He sips his tea again, considering how to procede. A little background music wouldn't go amiss.*
therealpm: (Confused)
*Peter groans as he wakes up: his arm, though now free of the IV, still feels cramped and sore. His brief elation at remembering his newfound freedom is tempered by the sight of an 'innocently' smiling Miles sitting next to his bed, cradling a steaming cup of tea. He sits up and a brief struggle ensues, with Miles crying indignantly for Peter to get his own cup before eventually relenting and handing his younger brother the mug. Peter nearly scalds his mouth as he gulps the brew down greedily, though he only manages half a cup before his stomach protests and he begins to feel sick.*

You took your time.

"Your minion only phoned me last night. Look... Peter, if you're going to do ridiculously stupid things like turn yourself into a mythological creature or stand for Parliament, you could at least keep me informed."

I didn't turn myself... and I can't believe you're still harping on about that. I told you, I was very busy, and I-

*His sentence is cut off by a tactical hug from Miles.*

"Anyway, I had a chat with John and that DEFRA person last night.  You're all clear to go home, which means I'm taking you home.  To Asby."

*Peter's protests are cut off by another hug*

"You are not well enough to stay by yourself, and you are not staying here.  I've already packed most of your things.  Once you're ready to go we'll get you dressed and wheeled down to the car."

...I want to take Jack.

"Fine.  The dogs could do with more company anyway.  Who's taking care of him at the moment?"

Fiona and Alastair.

"....

...you never make things easy, do you?  Fine. We'll stop by theirs and pick up Jack.  But that's it."

*They bicker for a little longer as Peter slowly finishes the tea.*
therealpm: (annoyed)
*Peter stirs awkwardly awake.  His right arm feels dead from being held above his head all night and he winces as he staggers to his feet, prodding the palm to try and get the blood flow to return. 

Yesterday had not been pleasant- Dawn had shackled him out of reach of his desk and Peter had been bored after the first 5 minutes without his briefings.  The following twelve hours, broken only by Black Rod's smirking arrival with food, had not been much better.*

GQ Magazine

Mar. 6th, 2011 10:16 am
therealpm: (Thinking)
A little bit of wishful thinking, perhaps, on the part of several journalists.

#23

Feb. 20th, 2011 12:35 pm
therealpm: (Cup)
A wonderfully event-free week.  No scandals to suppress, no plots to unravel, just the gentle hum of The Machine in the background.


...might take a nap.
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