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  Nigel has been replaced by Dawn, who alternates between ignoring and threatening him with being re-shackled if he as much as pokes a toe out of line, so he's been unable to do anythin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

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.*