23rd September, 5:30 pm, prison cell.
Sep. 23rd, 2012 05:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
therealpm*Peter drags himself through the cell door and falls face first on the bed. His hair is plastered to his skull with rainwater and the rest of his clothes are similarly sodden. It has not been a good day.
When John had acquiested to Peter'sbegging requests to be allowed out of his cell more frequently, Peter had naturally assumed that it would be nothing more taxing than a stroll around a park. Or some woodland. At the most, a quick jaunt up Box Hill, then back again. He hadn't reckoned on John's usually hidden, but well nourished, streak of sadism. Nor on Paddy's ability to instill sheer terror and the desire to run with nothing more than a soft growl.
It had definitely not been a good day.
The heavy rain had turned the cross country assault course to a muddy swamp- difficult and filthy to wade through. The shoes and clothes he'd been issued were ruined. Normally Peter would have been in the shower like a shot, scrubbing off the dirt with fervant zeal, but right now he was just too tired. His legs ache. His arms ache. His back, feet, hands, neck... even his forehead aches from squinting against the ever present rain. And he is cold.
Ignoring the mess he's making of the blankets, Peter kicks off his shoes and wraps himself up in the covers, shivering. Paddy had promised another session 'at some point this week'. Peter wonders whether a silver bullet wouldn't be preferable.*
When John had acquiested to Peter's
It had definitely not been a good day.
The heavy rain had turned the cross country assault course to a muddy swamp- difficult and filthy to wade through. The shoes and clothes he'd been issued were ruined. Normally Peter would have been in the shower like a shot, scrubbing off the dirt with fervant zeal, but right now he was just too tired. His legs ache. His arms ache. His back, feet, hands, neck... even his forehead aches from squinting against the ever present rain. And he is cold.
Ignoring the mess he's making of the blankets, Peter kicks off his shoes and wraps himself up in the covers, shivering. Paddy had promised another session 'at some point this week'. Peter wonders whether a silver bullet wouldn't be preferable.*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 04:58 pm (UTC)... Did somebody try to drown the witch?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 05:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 05:16 pm (UTC)Ah, but they can't have used heavy enough bricks, I see. I'm coming in, Peter. File down your fangs or whatever it is you do to prepare yourself for social interaction.
*He steps into the cell, twitching at the slight, weird humming of the wards. He goes over to the bed and gives a half-arsed tug on the blankets.*
Come on, lazy bugger, show your face. You're not being a very gracious host - offer me a drink after my long journey at least, yeah? What's the matter with you?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 05:20 pm (UTC)I'm tired.
Come back tomorow.
*He shivers as a drop of water runs down his back. His core is beginning to warm up a bit, but his hands and feet still feel icy.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 05:32 pm (UTC)*Alastair sits down heavily on the bed and wrenches the blankets harder this time, leaving Peter with just the pillow for protection.*
- And you're wearing a hoodie. First the beard, now this - what next, skinny jeans and a tattoo? What, though I fear I can guess, occasioned this departure from your usual vein of stupid outfits, hmm?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 05:47 pm (UTC)Paddy's idea of a 'fun run' contains nothing of the former and far too much of the latter.
*Hunching up to keep his head and neck under the pillow, he reaches an arm out to try and snatch the blankets back.*
Give me the covers back, I'm freezing.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 06:00 pm (UTC)Good grief, it sounds like you finally found a pace faster than 'sinister glide.' See, terrible things happen when Liberals are given power, Peter!
But of course, I'm sure it did you a world of good to get out of your hutch and stretch the old legs a bit. You're practically glowing with health, you know.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 06:04 pm (UTC)If you aren't going to leave me in peace, you could at least do me the courtesy of informing of the reason for your visit.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 06:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 06:29 pm (UTC)*Peter had completely forgotten it was conference so soon. He's meant to be giving a talk about Philip too- how could he have forgotten that? He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. It's going to be around the full moon as well. If it were new moon, there's a slight chance that he'd be allowed to go, but there isn't a cat's chance in hell that DEFRA will allow a known werewolf out in such a large gathering of people. He ponders a little further, then replies, voice still muffled by the pillow.*
You could have reminded me about this earlier, it's far too late for me to cancel now without it looking suspicious.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 06:41 pm (UTC)I can hardly hear you through that thing, by the way. Pass it here. *He tugs at the pillow but Peter holds fast.* Oh, don't be such a pathetic baby. What, have you been crying? Let go! That's better.
*Despite Peter's resistance, Alastair deliberately pulls the pillow from his fingers.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 06:46 pm (UTC)-let go you bastard!
*Peter struggles to keep hold of the pillow, but his arms are tired and Campbell has always been the more physically active of the two of them anyway. In a last ditch attempt to keep hold of the thing and some of his dignity, he kicks out at Campbell's arms and chest.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 06:58 pm (UTC)*Alastair is only mildly fazed by Peter's retaliation. He shuffles down to the end of the bed, out of range of the more forceful kicks, taking the pillow with him. Apparently Peter really is at least as tired as he claims to be, because his struggles lack focus to say the least.*
You are one hell of a grumpy puppy today, Mandelson. What do you want the stupid pillow for, anyway? It's not like you to hide your light under a bushel.
*He peers at Peter, trying to get a look at whatever it was he was trying to conceal.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 07:04 pm (UTC)I'm just... cold. That's all. Pass me my phone, would you? I need to contact Bercow about the conference.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 07:15 pm (UTC)In a minute. But now I know you're definitely hiding something. ... Is it that thing on your neck? Give us a look.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 07:19 pm (UTC)No, I'm not. Go away. Haven't you got better things to be doing than staring at my neck anyway? What are you, part vampire?
You've delivered your message about conference, now shoo.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 07:24 pm (UTC)It is that thing on your neck! Come on, I just want to see. Don't be such a tease. What is it? You got a tattoo after all, didn't you?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 07:27 pm (UTC)*Peter scowls and uses both hands to keep the hoodie up around his ears. He contemplates trying to kick Alastair again, but the rebound would bring his back in contact with the wall and in his current state, a kick probably wouldn't do much damage anyway.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 07:42 pm (UTC)We could have done this the easy way, you know.
*He lunges for Peter and snatches at both his wrists, forcing them apart and back into the wall, so that the hood slips down to his shoulders.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 07:49 pm (UTC)Ow- get off you bastard, the wards hurt!
*He glares up at Alastair, who seems to be rather more interested in examining his neck than listening to Peter's commands. Peter wriggles until his head and back are clear of the wards, but can't shift his hands away. He winces as his arms begin to burn from being held in such an odd position.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 08:06 pm (UTC)Well. It's not a tattoo.
*He shuffles both Peter's wrists into one hand and moves the other to band around his neck, slipping a finger inside it to test the give. There isn't much. He releases Peter's hands and pulls him away from the wards by the collar.*
A million possible explanations spring to mind, Peter, each more amusing than the last. Since you now know exactly how far obstructiveness gets you, I figure you're going to be tripping over yourself to assuage my curiosity.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 08:14 pm (UTC)None of your business, you nosy little git.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 08:24 pm (UTC)Really, pet? Because you know if you don't tell me I'll only ask your handlers about it, or more likely just make up my own assumptions and stick with those. Come on, you're always looking for my attention, and now you've got it! Spill the beans.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 08:28 pm (UTC)You complete and utter bastard. Let go!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 08:47 pm (UTC)You... got some issues, huh. Just asking... an innocent question... you blow everything... out of proportion. Vicious... sonofabitch...
*Still panting slightly, he gets up off the bed. After a moment's pause, he shoves Peter hard so that his body hits the wall, and holds him there.*
I think of you as a friend, Peter, but I'll stop giving a crap if this is how you're going to act when I come to visit.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 08:54 pm (UTC)You've assaulted me twice since you arrived!
*He shivers, then arches as the wards send another stab of pain through his shoulders.*
Alastair... please, it hurts. I just want to go to sleep...
*Peter knows he's almost snivelling, but he's tired and everything hurts and right now he can't be bothered to care.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 09:01 pm (UTC)Fine. Whiney git.
*He releases Peter and turns away, bored.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 09:12 pm (UTC)*And possibly for failing Peter. When she comes up to close the door of the cell, she finds Alastair Campbell inside shoving their prisoner into the wards. He lets him go just as she's about to shout at him, but even released and standing safely clear of the spell, Peter looks absolutely wretched.*
Right, visiting hours are over. Get out, Campbell.
*When he's gone she takes a more careful look at Peter. He's wearing a damp hoodie and he's covered in mud.*
What did he do to you, throw you into a pond?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 09:20 pm (UTC)John organised some out-of-cell exercise with Paddy Ashdown.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 09:26 pm (UTC)*She can't repress a smirk, but she puts a hand over her mouth to not-very-effectually hide it. It sounds like he's had a rough morning, poor thing; he doesn't need her sniggering at him on top of Paddy and Campbell.*
You'd best go take a nice hot shower, then. You're soaked though.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 09:31 pm (UTC)Instead, he reaches over the bed to grab the blankets from the floor. They are stained with mud, but he draws them up and over himself anyway, curling up tightly with his back to the room. The chill, temporarily displaced by his struggling earlier, has returned and he shivers.*
Later.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 09:41 pm (UTC)*She reaches over and shakes his shoulder gently- she can feel him trembling even though the blankets.*
Now, Peter. I know you're cold and sore, but you're not a wolf- we humans have better ways of dealing with these things than curling up in a little ball until we feel better.
You'll get warmer faster by taking a shower than you will by curling up in a pile of wet, filthy blankets. And you'll feel more like yourself once you're nice and clean again. After that I promise I'll go away and let you sleep.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 09:45 pm (UTC)It takes his brain a few moments to catch up with and process what Frances has said, but when it does he responds by drawing the blankets over his head. They trap the warmth of his breath and he feels the cold ease a little. He shivers again and feels his breathing speed up in response.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 09:54 pm (UTC)*On the other hand, if she rips the blankets off him right now he's probably going to go for her jugular or burst into tears. She's all too familiar with that feeling as well.*
*Settling on a compromise, she casts a heating spell on the blankets. After a few minutes she knows their warmth will go from a blessed relief to a feverish misery and drive Peter from his improvised den.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 10:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 10:06 pm (UTC)Shower.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 10:09 pm (UTC)I fail to see how it is any of your business whether I shower now, later, or not at all.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 10:16 pm (UTC)Come along. I'll have your bed all nice and clean again for you when you come out.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 10:29 pm (UTC)Fine. Just so long as you leave me alone to sleep afterwards.
*He kicks the blankets off- they look ruined from all the mud and drags himself out of bed. It's a very slow process, all of his muscles seem to have turned to wood. He fumbles for some clothes in the chest of drawers, but despite the warmed blankets his fingers still haven't properly unfrozen yet and it takes longer than it should.
Eventually he trudges off to the shower, dumping his muddy clothes in one corner and slumping under the jet of water. The warm water feels like it's scalding his skin, but as he warms up it shifts to being more bearable. His arms are so tired that he doesn't do more than ruffle his hair to get most of the muck out- shampoo and soap will have to wait for another day. Eventually he gets out and wraps himself in a towel, resting a little, getting ready for the arduous task of Putting On Clothes.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 10:54 pm (UTC)*The blankets are going to be more of a challenge, probably beyond the capacity of the Bercows' washing machine. Frances casts her mud removal spell, which leaves her with a pile of mud the size of a cowpat and some rather bedraggled looking blankets. That won't do. She banishes the mud out the window and dumps the blankets into the Bercows' washtub along with Peter's filthy sheets and gropes around their flat for a replacement. It seems Sally hasn't replaced the set from their spare room that they lent to Peter- that bed just has sheets on it. But on the top shelf of their linen cupboard Frances finds a few spares.*
*When she spreads them on Peter's bed she finds out why they were spares- they have little snowmen printed all over them. Oh well. At least they're dry and they look warm. And he won't be able to see how tasteless they are in the dark.*
*Hopefully he's too tired to care.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 11:05 pm (UTC)He gives Frances a quick nod of acknowledgement, then tumbles beneath the covers and is asleep almost immediately, utterly exhausted.*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-23 11:08 pm (UTC)*Frances smiles and turns out the light in the cell, and then settles down at the desk with her reading to guard him through the night.*