Thursday 4th October, lunch time. Prison cell.

[therealpm]

*Bored, he paces the cell.  The inedible remnents of Fiona's gift basket are stacked carefully out of the way in the fireplace, above which is tacked a hand drawn card from John's children. His legs and back ache, signalling that he's going to be changing form soon. He should, he supposes, get under the blankets and wait there, but John had been significantly less amenable to letting him out for at least short breaks than Peter had hoped: he's been kept alone in this room for days now and the confinement is making him restless.

A muscle in his flank spasms. He grits his teeth as others follow suit- it's starting. Hobbling, he makes his way over to the bed and burrows under a blanket, biting the edge to avoid crying out in pain as his form shifts.*

Comments

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John sighs*

Which books, Peter? Just saying "books" is not particularly helpful and the last time you said something along those lines you ended up with Campbell's tomes, something I am sure you are keen to avoid.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter rolls his eyes*

Books other than political biographies, then.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

...

Very well.

*John summons down a few books from the the flat.*

Better?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

John, both you and Bryant may find Erskine May to be fascinating reading, but the rest of the world cannot claim to share such refined tastes.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Careful, Peter, than was almost a compliment.

*John sends the book away again, then summons a few others from Sally's fiction collection.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter picks up the first one on the stack.*

'Twilight- New Moon'. You're not funny, John.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John looks at the book.*

...I do apologise.

*John banishes those books back to the house and summons a few more.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter picks the next set up and grimaces.*

Well... I suppose they're better than Campbell's diaries.

*He waves dismissively*

Away with you, I was under the impression you had important work to be getting on with.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John rolls his eyes and takes the used tea thing with him*

Yes, Peter, I do. I am so glad something was found to suit your tastes at last. So very glad indeed...

*John exits the cell, banished the tea things to the kitchen sink and settles down to do some work.*