24th September, 8 am. Prison cell.

[therealpm]

*Peter wakes up feeling groggy and disorientated.  Although not as bone tired as yesterday, his muscles still ache and cramp.  Something nags at the back of his mind, something important that he needed to do and he rubs his eyes, mentally replaying yesterday's events, trying to remember.  The first memory that surfaces- being shoved into the wards by Alastair, causes him to shudder and wince.

His fringe drops in his eyes and he pushes it back, noting with distaste the grittiness of mud on his scalp.  Still trying to recall what it was yesterday, he heads off to the shower, limbs protesting against the effort and back stiffened straight more from cramp than good posture.

It is not until he is beginning to wash his hair for the third time (he hasn't felt so filthy since secondary school and it is not pleasant), that he remembers: the conference.*

Fuck!

*He finishes washing, then towels of and dresses rapidly, nearly running (well, hobbling quickly) to the phone.*


Text received from 07### ######

John,

my presence is required at Labour conference next weekend.  Cancelling not an option.  At least one of the events is after dark.

-Peter

Comments

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter drops the pretence of working and instead turns to raise an eyebrow in Nigel's direction.*

On the contrary, I am President of Hartlepool United and have visited several times.

Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I have orders from John to follow...

*Peter determinedly resumes his typing.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John beams at Peter.*

Anyway, enough bickering - Nigel, what does all this-

*John points at the lines of code on the screen*

-mean?

[ribble-mp.livejournal.com]

*Nigel looks at the screen, but while he can recognise the Futhark runes he can't read them. His education barely covered Welsh; it didn't get into ancient writing systems.*

I don't know! It's not in English!

...I don't see how you're meant to monitor him if you can't even read what he's writing.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Do you know, it hasn't been an issue yet? How fortunate!

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter lets the two wizards bicker for a while, mind focussed on getting the structure of the program done as swiftly as possible. Eventually, their argument grows too loud to ignore and he mildly suggests that they sort it out over tea and biscuits, directing John to the tea dispensor and Nigel to the biscuit tin.

The next hour or so is occupied by Nigel being intermittently sick into a bucket and loudly disavowing Peter as an unnatural force for evil. Peter ignores both and instead adds careful comments to the code so that he can remember where everything's supposed to go tomorrow.

Eventually, once Nigel's stopped retching and Peter's back (and the rest of him, frankly) is starting to protest at being kept so long on a hard wooden stool (he really ought to invest in one of those ergonomic chairs. Wood fits with the decor but not with his 60 odd years), he stretches and demands to be returned to his cell for the night. The demand is odd enough to startle both other wizards out of their semi-resumed spat.*

[ribble-mp.livejournal.com]

*Why does Mandelson have a disembodied human head? Why does John not seem to care that Mandelson has a head? It's not often Nigel feels the Daily Mail is insufficiently exercised about something- the paper is generally sensible but being gay does force one to question some of its more extreme positions, and John isn't nearly as bad as Mail columnists seem to think he is- but really, the press are not paying enough attention to Peter Mandelson. Sure, they're monitoring his progress up the property ladder, but do they know about he has a rotting human head in his "office"? Pipes full of blood? Keyboards made of a worrying ivory-coloured substance that is definitely not birch wood, whatever John may claim?*

*Nigel won't leak to the press, he's not that sort, but someone has to be told about this. Someone like Dawn. He hates to get John in trouble but Mandelson obviously has him under some sort of spell that makes all this appear normal to him. They can't rely on his judgment.*

Yes, let's take the werewolf back to his cell.

*Nigel takes another look at the head and shudders*

Please.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John is tempted to reply with "Yes, let's accompany Peter back to his room." but concludes that creating another argument with Nigel when he's like this would be counter productive.*

Yes, yes, alright. Come along, Peter.

*The three of them make their way back to Peter's cell once Peter has said goodbye to The Machine (and made sure the control room is locked away). While Peter is out of his cell, John's wand only stops being pointed at the werewolf's throat when the wards are taken down. Peter returns to his cell without any fuss and the wards are instantly replaced.*

Goodnight, Peter.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter bids John good night, then notices the blankets on the bed and scowls.*

[ribble-mp.livejournal.com]

*Nigel settles in anxiously at the desk and starts counting down the minutes until Frances shows up to relieve him.*

*Even Fifty Shades of Grey isn't much comfort to him now. He's been imagining Paddy Ashdown as Christian, but every time he tries to lose himself in the fantasy the image of that horrible skull with the strips of flesh hanging off it bobs to the surface of his mind like a drowned sheep in a pond.*