12th September, 10 am, Prison Cell

[therealpm]

*Peter is bored.  Very bored.  Nigel has been replaced by Dawn, who alternates between ignoring and threatening him with being re-shackled if he as much as pokes a toe out of line, so he's been unable to do anythin other than read through a seemingly endles series of briefings which, whilst preferable to having no connection to the power of a ministerial role, do tend to blur into a neverending screed of civil service speak.*

Comments

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

It was definitely around here somewhere... aha.

*Alastair swaggers up to the cell door with Fiona in tow.*

What's the time, Mr Wolf? It's visiting time, you lucky, lucky boy. Have you missed us terribly?

[furiously-fiona.livejournal.com]

*Behind Alastair's back, Fiona rolls her eyes. He's been insufferable ever since he beat Peter Capaldi in that swearing contest.*

Hello, Peter.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter wanders over to the door and smirks*

Desperately, my life has simply been incomplete, nay, devoid of life, bereft of any spark of hope or joy without your presence.

Good morning, Fi. To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit? Or more precisely, what does that great lunk wish to boast about this time?

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

So no real change from usual, then.

And oi, it's the great 'eleven fucks' lunk now. I don't suppose you'll have heard, hidden away in here like the Hunchback of Westminster, but I have been proving my superior language skills over that skinny luvvie bastard who plays me on the telly. Not so great without a hoard of writers behind him, hah.

[furiously-fiona.livejournal.com]

*Fiona can't suppress a grin at 'Hunchback of Westminster'. Whatever his faults, her partner has a sense of humour.*

They had a swearing contest. In front of a roomful of toddlers, although Alastair alleges he didn't realise this at the time.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

"Eleven fucks"....?

I know you have a veritable gift for summarising, Ali, but isn't that name missing a 'second' from the middle?

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

Well, I'm a busy man. Things to do, people to crushingly humiliate. You should call me for the best eleven seconds of your life sometime.

[furiously-fiona.livejournal.com]

*Fiona wraps an arm around his waist and leans against his shoulder.*

Just as long as I can watch, dear. Now that I know Peter is dating a Tory, I think I can be charitable with your time. All eleven seconds of it.

But enough about your desolate sex life, Peter- how are you holding up?

*Someone who knew her well enough might detect an edge of genuine concern beneath the question.*

[paddythebamf.livejournal.com]

*Paddy makes his way down the corridor to Peter's cell feeling fresh, invigorated and ready for a good night's work

He's spent an enjoyable morning at an arms dealer's, looking for some new carbon fibre throwing stars as a present for Jane, and a typically restful afternoon in the Lords, for once not cursing the glacial pace of life on the red benches. Really, he's almost looking forward to a spell of guard duty.*

Evening, Dawn. Hello, Peter, didn't you get the razor I sent?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter indicates, with a slightly sour expression, the neat row of confiscated shaving implements lined up on Dawn's desk.*

Stuck at customs.

[msdeputyspeaker.livejournal.com]

*Finally. Dawn can go home and put her feet up. There's nothing like watching a werewolf for most of the day to make curry and a film extra restful.*

Good evening, Paddy.

No, he didn't get the razor. Anything that could possibly be used as offensive weaponry has to be cleared through John, and John hasn't been around today.

Have a good night.

*Grudgingly, she turns towards the cell.*

You too, Peter.

[paddythebamf.livejournal.com]

*Typical Labour, Paddy thinks, always with the nanny-state overestimation of health and safety.*

Oh I see, the wonders of bureaucracy once again. I'm sure that shaving brush would have been lethal, especially to someone who can produce inch-long fangs at will.

Don't worry, I'll guard them with my life until John turns up to make a decision.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter leans against the wall, crosses his arms and watches through the cell door. There's little he can do, but a fight that doesn't involve him being tied or chained to anything is always worth watching to break the tedium of the day.*

[msdeputyspeaker.livejournal.com]

*Liberals. Always so damn sarcastic. And far too aware of their devastating smiles.

She bares her teeth at him.*

Be aware that he was tied to the bars by his necktie earlier today by Fiona Millar, so he may be a bit sulky.

Chris Bryant may also come poking around. Feel free to use any and all force to dispose of him.

*She can't help feeling that Paddy's had the best of her. Still, curry and a film - and NO WEREWOLVES. She'll have a much better evening than Paddy.

Thus cheered, she disengages her glare from him and turns it to Peter.*

I'll leave you two to catch up on fascinating Lords chitchat, then. Be a good werewolf and don't bite Paddy.

*She departs.*

[paddythebamf.livejournal.com]

*Teeth baring? Someone's been spending too much time around werewolves. Still, it's nice to know she's definitely human and has a very good dentist.*

Goodbye, Dawn. Have a jolly evening, and I'm sure we shall do the same.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter waits until Dawn has definitely left before flexing his fingers and testing the wards, counting his blessings that his keepers were desperate enough to allow a non-magical guard. Paddy's sharp enough to perceive many things, but he hasn't got a magical bone in his body and can't perceive the myriad ways in which Peter is examining, testing and gently nudging open small cracks and windows in the wards through which he might escape. At present, the loopholes are only very small, and Peter procedes with caution, not wishing to fall foul of some trip wire or alarm.

He gives Paddy a brittle nod. It is complex work that does not allow him to give over much thought to social niceties, so he makes some comment or other about being tired and scurries off to bed to feign sleep and weaken wards.*

[paddythebamf.livejournal.com]

*It's a while since Paddy's stood guard over anything, but it comes back remarkably quickly.

The building creaks and groans a little in the quiet of the night, but then it always does, and old habits die hard--Paddy has always subconsciously noted the difference between the right creaks and the wrong ones, just like he knows the engine noises of every car in his village, and a strange one idling by his gate is still enough to wake him from the soundest of sleeps.

No, the only thing to observe is Peter. Frances clearly doesn't entirely trust the rather stout bars of these doors, or that leather collar thing that Peter was wearing last night (may still be wearing, since he's apparently gone to bed in a shirt and tie, but the light's not been good enough to tell for sure). As for personality, Paddy likes Peter rather more then he ought, but he's never made the mistake of trusting him.

So it's safe to assume that it's not safe. Fortunately that's just the way Paddy likes it.

Especially since Peter is no expert at pretending to sleep. Paddy's guarded experts before, and he's got the scars to prove it.*

So Peter, are you plotting, or merely sulking tonight? Just as a matter of interest.

10 p.m.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John arrives in the room.*

*He spots Paddy - presumably Frances brought him in, but he's barely had time to check his emails/texts to day what with the Hillsborough debate. He trusts Frances' judgement and just tries to go with it.*

Ah, Paddy, good to see you. I take it you're up to date with the situation? Handling it well, as per usual, as we would all expect, I see?

How is everything this evening?

Re: 10 p.m.

[paddythebamf.livejournal.com]

John, good to see you too.

I wouldn't say up to date, but Frances has told me the basics. Muddling through, though, muddling through.

*Paddy gives a quick recap of everything that's happened in the last couple of hours, conscious that Peter is almost certainly trying to catch every word.*

And since everybody knows I've a tin ear for magic, I thought I'd call in someone who can check for goings on.

Re: 10 p.m.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Well, that's all that matters at this time, I assume. You're not without tea or anything truly vital, I trust?

*John checks the wards - it's clear something has happened to them, but he can't quite be sure what it is.*

I'll get an expert in as soon as is possible to check over the security of the place.

*He turns back to Peter*

There isn't much else I should be made aware of, is there Peter?

Re: 10 p.m.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter huffs and draws the covers over his head.*

What does everybody have against my attempts to sleep?

Re: 10 p.m.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John ignored Peter's question in favour of asking his own*

Peter, what have you been doing to the wards?

Re: 10 p.m.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

I haven't been doing anything to your blasted wards- how could I? With this collar on and the power of the Mace behind them, it would be like trying to bring down the Great Wall of China with a bowl of jelly.

All I want to do is set up my own sound barrier, so he can't wake me up every twenty minutes.

Re: 10 p.m.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John is torn. The story seems plausible given he can't be sure of what exactly has been done to his protective charms. Then again, it's Peter's word against Paddy's...*

I am sure, Peter, if you manage to ignore whatever it is that Paddy is doing and do indeed go to sleep, then there may be a shaving kit waiting for you when you awake.

Re: 10 p.m.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter seethes, he is not a child and John's being immensely patronising. On the other hand, John's also more likely to drop the matter and not investigate further, if Peter seems co-operative. Peter decides discretion is the better part of valour. He can make his views of John's treatment of him known, forcefully and at great length, once he has finally escaped this cell.*

Fine.