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  Nigel has been replaced by Dawn, who alternates between ignoring and threatening him with being re-shackled if he as much as pokes a toe out of line, so he's been unable to do anythin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]

I didn't tie you to a door. Although I probably would have done if I'd thought of it first...

Look, it may seem petty to you, but I'm traumatised for life over here, okay? If you really can't remember anything, it went like this: I was round your place, helping you out with manly things like shelves and so on, when you went into the next room and came back as a big hungry wolf that chased me, utterly defenseless by the way, all the way to Primrose Hill. I thought I was going to die! Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't be more than a little vengeful after something like that.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter snorts*

A thoroughly unbiased and impartial report, I'm sure.

*He stares straight at Alastair through the bars, but does not come any closer*

I'm permanantly imprisoned, with a 50% chance of dying within the next two months. That's a worse prognosis than most inmates on death row. What more do you want?

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

Damn right. What a shame we'll never get to hear it in court.

*He is unnerved by Peter's stare, but holds it steady.*

That's... it sounds bad when you put it like that. But if you were on the outside you could be struck by lightning, hit by a bus, you know? You make your own luck.

And anyway, 50% is the rate for people who aren't you. You're going to be absolutely fine, really. In the end.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

We'll see.

I have briefings to read. If you need something to do, then you can run along to Boots and get me a razor, electric-

*He waits for Alastair to stop sniggering*

-if you don't mind. I doubt I'm allowed anything with a proper blade.

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

Oh, trying to get rid of me now so you can wallow in self-pity alone, are you? I see how it is. *grins* No, as it happens, I don't mind. Your scruff is very charming but I don't want you getting used to it and deciding to make it a permanent fixture. One electric razor comin' right up.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter sits at his desk and begins to work, waving a dismissive arm in Alastair's direction.*

Be off with you, some of us have jobs that are rather more taxing than maintaining a vulgar vocabulary.

[msdeputyspeaker.livejournal.com]

*Dawn raises an unamused eyebrow.*

Taxing? You've fallen far if you think a little run-of-the-mill paperwork is taxing.

*She nods at Alastair as he leaves, taking the chance to appreciate his departing arse one more time.*