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  Nigel has been replaced by Dawn, who alternates between ignoring and threatening him with being re-shackled if he as much as pokes a toe out of line, so he's been unable to do anythin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

[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.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Paddy's comment startles Peter out of a rather delicate act of propping open two loopholes in the wards, one against the other. He manages to wedge one open slightly before it closes, and at least to slow the other down enough so as not to send a shockwave that might set off any alarms, but what was potentially an avenue for escape that could have been ready in days is now closed. He is not, therefore, in the best of moods when he answers Paddy's question.*

I am not sulking.

*He mentally replays his answer and hurriedly amends.*

Or plotting.

I am trying to get to sleep.

[paddythebamf.livejournal.com]

I'm glad to hear it, certainly on the first count.

Of course, if the second is true, I should probably be calling for an ambulance right now.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter undoes the tie- he'd been too engrossed in altering the wards to think of it earlier- and throws it across the room.*

I do not require medical attention, but thank you for your concern.

*He pauses, then shucks off his suit jacket and trousers as well, though those he folds and places by the bed. Ashdown might be more convinced of his desire to sleep once Peter is no longer fully dressed.*

[paddythebamf.livejournal.com]

*Decent people look away when someone's getting undressed. Soldiers on guard don't, but Paddy's seen it all enough times not to be overly bothered.

So he's plotting, then. Good to know some things never change, Paddy thinks.

Paddy wonders whether to bring out the silver bullets, but decides that that would be kicking a man when he's down. And besides, it's always best to have a surprise to bring to the party, just in case. Instead, he brings out one of Jane's throwing stars and tosses it in his hand idly. Jane'll be pleased with this one--good sharp edge on it, and no tell-tale reflections off the sides.

He'll give Peter 20 minutes, he decides, and then disturb him again. Just in case.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter fluffs up the pillow a few times, then curls up and tries to pretend to be asleep again. This time, he investigates the wards surrounding the fireplace. There's more of them, to allow visitors that way sometimes, he supposes, and complexity is always a good place to look for loopholes. He allows his magic, stunted, slowed and weakened as it is by the collar, to reach out and begin to snoop for weak spots*

[paddythebamf.livejournal.com]

*Peter's pretending to sleep again. Paddy sighs. Waiting for trouble was always the boring bit, but Frances would have his hide if he went looking for it instead.

Paddy tosses the throwing star a few times and then throws it with moderate force at the door frame. It buries itself deep into the wood with a satisfying thunk.

Frances will probably have his hide for that too. He pulls it clear of the wood and palms it up his sleeve.*

Still sulking?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter jumps at the sound and bites back curses as another loophole slips closed.*

Will you not just let me sleep, Ashdown?

[paddythebamf.livejournal.com]

Sleep, yes. Plot silently in the darkness, not so much.

Text to 078######## Suggest you come and check on our hairy friend. Not sure why he's being shifty this time but suspect it's more your department than mine.

[paddythebamf.livejournal.com]

Text to 078######## And for pity's sake tell him he can shave! The sulking is getting unbearable.

If it's any consolation, Peter, I'll bring you a waxing kit instead of the razors tomorrow. My granddaughter tells me they're the best thing for hair removal.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Concentration on the spells entirely shattered, Peter snaps back*

I'm not and it isn't.