25th September, 9:30 am. Prison cell.
Sep. 25th, 2012 09:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
therealpm*The first thing that Peter notices when he wakes up is that he can't move. The second thing he notices is the pain that shoots through his limbs when he tries. On further attempts, he finds out that the first isn't strictly true (which is good, because if John or Nigel or anyone else had put some sort of physical binding spell on him on top of all the other restrictions then he might just have had to find a way to kill them with his brain)- moving is just very very difficult and very very slow.
Black Rod has already delivered breakfast- it's steaming gently on the other side of the room, which right now might as well be half way up Ben Nevis for all that Peter can get to it. He shifts one leg sideways. Slowly, so slowly, then winces as his foot hits the cold carpet. After what seems like an hour but was probably less than a minute, the other leg follows and Peter rolls himself upright, suppressing the urge to groan. Wasn't he meant to have got all this aching business out of the way yesterday? He certainly felt like he'd had more than his fair share of muscle cramps and spasms.
He manages to drag one of the blankets around his shoulders- warmth is mean to help with this sort of thing, isn't it?- and pauses. He's going to have to stand up. And then walk. Steeling himself, he tells his legs very firmly that they're going to have to move.
Owowowowowowowowowowowowwwwww
Eventually he collapses in the chair. It provides, he decides, an under-appreciated view of the room and he ought to stay here for some time. Not bothering with the knife, he stabs... well, slowly nudges the fork into some bacon and settles the blanket more securely about his person.
This is ridiculous, even chewing hurts.*
Black Rod has already delivered breakfast- it's steaming gently on the other side of the room, which right now might as well be half way up Ben Nevis for all that Peter can get to it. He shifts one leg sideways. Slowly, so slowly, then winces as his foot hits the cold carpet. After what seems like an hour but was probably less than a minute, the other leg follows and Peter rolls himself upright, suppressing the urge to groan. Wasn't he meant to have got all this aching business out of the way yesterday? He certainly felt like he'd had more than his fair share of muscle cramps and spasms.
He manages to drag one of the blankets around his shoulders- warmth is mean to help with this sort of thing, isn't it?- and pauses. He's going to have to stand up. And then walk. Steeling himself, he tells his legs very firmly that they're going to have to move.
Owowowowowowowowowowowowwwwww
Eventually he collapses in the chair. It provides, he decides, an under-appreciated view of the room and he ought to stay here for some time. Not bothering with the knife, he stabs... well, slowly nudges the fork into some bacon and settles the blanket more securely about his person.
This is ridiculous, even chewing hurts.*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-25 09:16 pm (UTC)Hey, is that Andy McNab?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-25 09:19 pm (UTC)Tinkerbell. How are you?
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-25 09:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-25 09:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-25 09:40 pm (UTC)Ta, but I've mastered the toaster.
And when it gets complicated you can always eat normal bread until someone else shows up to help.And the Missus is right here, actually - she was just wondering if and when you want us to stop by with another basket of treats.(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-25 09:45 pm (UTC)If you are hell-bent on visiting, then I suppose Thursday would be best. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to participate in the 'fun' of the excursion.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-25 09:53 pm (UTC)Tomorrow? Well, fuck it, maybe I would. You know me, Peter, always rising to the challenge.
And if you're so very fine having done it yourself, it can't be that tough after all! You're on, pal.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-25 09:57 pm (UTC)*Peter smirks, then adds sweetly.*
I'll see you tomorrow then, 9am. Don't be late.
*He hangs up and texts John to inform him that there will be a second person coming along tomorrow. He doesn't particularly expect to outrun Alastair, in fact, he expects Ali to steam right ahead. All the better for Peter to watch him fall into the numerous potholes and mudpools that litter the course.*
Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 03:26 pm (UTC)Good afternoon, Peter.
*John lets himself into the cell and lays out the food.*
How are you today?
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 03:33 pm (UTC)Fine.
*He shuffles papers aside, including a list of acceptable questions and prepared answers, to make room for the tray, and is about to eat when he notices John still standing there.*
Have you nothing better to do than watch me masticate? Go satisfy your voyeurism elsewhere.
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 03:38 pm (UTC)I-I-I have th-the result of The M-M-Machine's d-diagnostics.
*John shoves the papers towards Peter*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 03:54 pm (UTC)*Peter carefully flips through the stack, lunch temporarily forgotten. The diagnostics all confirm that he is, indeed, a werewolf. They do not suggest a more precise date of infection than 30 days prior to the tests, with a two day margin of error- comparitively large for equipment with The Machine's processing power. An imprecise time stamp does rule out a hex or curse, which tended to have instantaneous full-body loading. Instead the infection seems to have begun in his lungs...
Peter feels a thrill of fear, if he breathed the infection in, he could also be breathing it out... but the next page assuages his worry. The respiration test showed no sign of any contagious being other than a slight cold.
So. An airborne contaminant. Non-bacterial or viral, otherwise it would have spread to the rest of his guards by now. A potion, then, but who would...
Who would stand to gain the most from Peter being temporarily or permanantly indisposed? Tories. Obviously. But he hadn't been in contact with any Tories for ages and he doubted they would be able to sneak anything past the wards of his home. Unless... Osborne?
He grips the paper tighter, and shoves that thought away into a small box to be examined when John isn't here, watching his every move. He leafs through the rest of the pages, then sets them down carefully.*
Nothing conclusive, then.
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 03:58 pm (UTC)*John awkwardly shifts his weight from foot to foot and tries to think of something to say.*
At least we can positively rule out a werewolf bite, I suppose...
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 04:04 pm (UTC)Indeed. Was there anything else? I need to finalise The Machine's programming and record my speeches.
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 04:05 pm (UTC)I'll just... just wait, then.
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 04:08 pm (UTC)Well? Come along.
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 05:14 pm (UTC)What can I do to help with this, Peter?
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 05:21 pm (UTC)*Peter points to a specific patch of floor.*
...and touch nothing.
*He wanders back over to the control panel, and begins putting in the final touches to the program.*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 05:48 pm (UTC)Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:09 pm (UTC)He wheels the box over to a well lit section of the room and begins plugging, or in some cases soldering, the miscellaneous bric-a-brac into the central nervous system of The Machine, apologising to it for the hatchet job all the while.
Eventually it is done, and Peter stands in the middle of a strange assortment of recording equipment, fishing around for his speech notes.*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:10 pm (UTC)Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:23 pm (UTC)Recording my speeches. Obviously. Now do be quiet and don't interrupt.
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:24 pm (UTC)*He glances round the room, taking in the view. There isn't much to see apart from The Machine - now back to it's original size - and a few tools/storage cupboard. John is bored rather quickly.*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:33 pm (UTC)Bug fixed, he tries again. The second hologram is two storeys tall and a slightly ominous shade of yellow. Peter quickly cancels that one and fixes the array assignment.
This process continues, with doppelgangers of varying sucess and difficulty to debug, until eventually Peter gets one that is the right size and colour, doesn't flicker and talks within the human hearing range.
Peter sighs, summons a cup of tea, and begins the tedious process of teaching the program how to answer questions.*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:35 pm (UTC)Either summon me one of those, or I will forcibly take you back to your cell this instant for breaking our agreed regulations.
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:37 pm (UTC)Machine, make Bercow a cup of tea.
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:39 pm (UTC)Thank you, Machine.
*John goes back to being bored, but now with added tea. It is a slight improvement.*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:45 pm (UTC)Instead, he turns to the problem of a transmitter. It is not a particularly difficult problem, given that he constructed several before John began to get Ideas about how far The Machine's influence should be allowed to extend. The main difficulty will be preventing John from realising this by spending a suitable amount of time engaging in what appears to be a difficult and intricate job.
Peter pulls on a pair of heavy duty gloves and gets to work.*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 07:05 pm (UTC)What is it you're doing now?
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 07:27 pm (UTC)Building the transmitter. Alastair will need to give it to Dimbleby or whoever's heading the BBC team. They'll know what to do.