7 am, 3rd September. Parliamentary prison cell

[therealpm]

*Peter wakes up several times during the night.  The bright sodium glare of the streetlights regularly tricking his brain into thinking it's dawn.  Eventually, he gets up, grabs a spare blanket and hangs it on the highest window bar he can reach.  It doesn't block all the light, but enough to let him sleep until morning.

The morning is not a happy one, Peter's mental stock taking: 'Owner: one.  Practically incurable disease: one.  Means to contact George: zero.' does not lend itself to cheer.  Now that he's less furious, he can feel his magic roiling beneath D'Souza's binding, giving him a continuous need to figit or find some other outlet for the pent up force.  He paces the room.*

Comments

[dasouzzle.livejournal.com]

They are. I'm sure he'd be happy to donate them for a good cause.

*Unlike shaving, a mirror is easy enough to supply through magic. She waves her wand and a rectangle of air above the sink becomes perfectly reflective.*

I don't know why we didn't think of doing that earlier. There's no danger of you shattering that and turning it into a shiv.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*He deadpans,*

I'm not Gordon.

*then picks up a suit, and wanders into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him and showering quickly.

The room's sink has no plug, perhaps John thought he would use the chain as a garrotte, which makes things somewhat more difficult; and when Peter looks at the mirror he sees it has no depth. He is careful not to let his disappointment that the mirror is air rather than glass show (because if several years in New Labour teach you anything it's that people are always watching) and instead focuses on removing his unwelcome beard as efficiently as possible.

Shaved and suited, he exits the bathroom and hands the razor back; his face a picture of perfectly poised politeness.*

[dasouzzle.livejournal.com]

*Frances accepts the razor and sends John's shaving cream back to his flat, since she doesn't know if he has a second can. Besides, Peter can probably think of a way to fashion shaving cream into a projectile weapon, if he is sufficiently bored and motivated. Judging by his impeccable behaviour over the past few hours, he certainly is.*

Do you feel a bit more yourself? You look it, anyway.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter fiddles with his cufflinks. They're an alloy of some sort, and probably have a bit of silver mixed in as they sting his fingers a little.*

Yes, thank you.