Thursday 4th October, lunch time. Prison cell.

*Bored, he paces the cell.  The inedible remnents of Fiona's gift basket are stacked carefully out of the way in the fireplace, above which is tacked a hand drawn card from John's children. His legs and back ache, signalling that he's going to be changing form soon. He should, he supposes, get under the blankets and wait there, but John had been significantly less amenable to letting him out for at least short breaks than Peter had hoped: he's been kept alone in this room for days now and the confinement is making him restless.

A muscle in his flank spasms. He grits his teeth as others follow suit- it's starting. Hobbling, he makes his way over to the bed and burrows under a blanket, biting the edge to avoid crying out in pain as his form shifts.*

Friday 5th October, lunch time. Prison cell.

*He's been told he has another inspection today- apparently it was delayed by a combination of staff cuts and his extended transformation, so Peter's dressed up in one of his better suits and tied his necktie loose enough that the collar can be inspected if necessary.

Bored for lack of work to do- Jo hasn't delivered the next tranch of paperwork yet and he's read all the books, he picks up The Machine's readouts and tries to work out precisely what got him into this mess in the first place.*