Monday 8th October. Prison Cell

[therealpm]

*Peter stares out of the window at the thoroughly dismal weather, unable to concentrate on the briefing in front of him.  It's a new one, so it probably contains something of value if leaked to the press via one of his erstwhile colleagues, aka Tinkerbell, aka Alastair.  He should at least search for something to give Chuka, but he really can't be bothered.

He shivers.  Despite much prodding from Fiona, he's barely had anything except tea and some toast since Friday.  It probably isn't helping his concentration, but he just doesn't feel like eating.

He catches sight of the phone out of the corner of his eye and considers ringing the stupid wonderful heartless man, just to see if he can make him feel as bad as Peter does, but resists.  It probably wouldn't work.  George already thinks he's a monster, Peter doesn't want him thinking he's pathetic as well.  He shoves the phone under some papers so it's out of sight and tries to get back to work.*

Comments

Re: 6 pm

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Osborne.

Chancellor.

*He elbows John, though not hard enough to hurt, and sniffs.*

Idiot.

Re: 6 pm

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Oh, so you don't know George of the Jungle... that's sad...

I'd be sad too if-if I thought I knew George of the Jungle but it was just Osborne.

*He pats Peter on the shoulder*

Poor Peter. Not knowing George of the Jungle, just George Osborne...

Re: 6 pm

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter squints at John, utterly baffled.*

Eh?

*He takes one gulp of wine, then another and allows himself to sink back down into a slouch.*

Re: 6 pm

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Well, of all the Georges one could know, George of the Jungle is a pretty good George. George Osborne is not as high up on the list as George of the Jungle.

*John takes a big sip of his wine and then says matter-of-fact-ly:*

I mean for a start George of the Jungle has much better hair.

Re: 6 pm

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter blinks at him*

Why are you talking about George of the jungle?

I'm talking about my George, only he doesn't want to be my George because I'm a monster, and monsters eat children and even when I said I wouldn't, he wouldn't listen, and... and...

*Peter sniffs and then takes another very large gulp of wine.*

Re: 6 pm

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John tries to work out what Peter means*

Monster? You're not a monster, you're a werewolf - has he seen the leaflet thingy?

*He watches Peter sniff and drink a lot of wine. John's mind is working overtime but he eventually catches on.*

Oh. You mean you and he-

Well that's just...

That's not...

...I'm going to make him stand at the box and answer questions for five whole hours for this! Every week. No! Every day!

*John empties more wine into their glasses.*

Re: 6 pm

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter's voice quivers and he twists the corner of his shirt between two fingers.*

Am. Nearly killed people.

*He takes another drink, smaller this time*

Thank you

You can't, I'm sure that's against line something of paragraph something else, subsection whatever in Erskine May.

*John's hopelessly flawed plans do make him feel a little better though, as does his blithe separation of werewolves and monsters as though the two were mutually exclusive.*

Re: 6 pm

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Not now though - you're taking that nasty smelly potion. That helps you, right? You're not a monster. Don't be so very silly.

I mean, you're the King of Darkness or whatever, but you're not a monster. I would never let a monster have a picnic with my children. Never, Peter, do you hear me? And since you had a picnic with them, you cannot be a monster!

*John sips his drink*

I am Speaker. I do what I want, and if I want to make that bum-nosed toff stand up and be annoyed by Chris and Ed Balls for five hours a day, then I will.

Re: 6 pm

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter's sure John's logic isn't quite as watertight as it currently seems, but after the amount he's drunk, he's really in no position to deconstruct it, so he nods along, both affronted and amused by John's description of George. It takes a few moments for him to get his voice back under control when John' finished, but John doesn't seem to notice.*

I thought you were an Impartial Speaker?

Re: 6 pm

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

I am an impartial Speaker and I impartially think that you can do better than that curly haired, baby-faced, arrogant, out of touch twit.

Everyone would agree with me. Everyone.

Re: 6 pm

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

...well as long as that's an impartial opinion.

*His snort of laughter turns into half a sob as it comes back to him that George is gone. He doesn't know how or why it keeps hitting him like this, surely the sensible thing for his brain to have done after first receiving the information would be to absorb it, process it, and have done with, instead of flinging bits of it at him to trip over at inconvenient times.

He rubs his hands over his face to stop it going any further, then curls up on his side, head on the pillow.*

Thank you.

Re: 6 pm

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John decides that they've probably had enough wine for the evening and so takes the glasses and places them on the desk.*

*He awkwardly tries to hug Peter, but he can't quite work out how to, so he settles for patting the other man's shoulder.*

It's fine.

Well, no it's not - it's horrible and terrible and you're clearly hurt. But it won't always be like that, I think.

Re: 6 pm

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter half-hears the words, but his head is fuzzy from drink and lack of sleep. One of his arms splays across John's legs as he falls further into sleep.*

Re: 6 pm

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John looks down at the arm over his legs.*

Peter? Peter, I should go...

*Peter clearly doesn't hear him and continues to sleep.*

*John remembers that waking up next to Peter again would be a Bad Idea for some reason. But Peter would probably be sad if John left while he was asleep - it would make him feel even lonelier.*

*John glances at the dog basket in the corner and briefly considers sleeping in there for the night. Eventually he dismisses the sleeping arrangements and being too cold. Instead, he settles on a compromise. He takes off his belt (not nice having a belt dig into you while you're sleeping) and then moves so his head is down the other end of the bed.*

*He clambers under the covers, top-and-tailing with Peter.*

*Peter twitches in his sleep and John thinks that maybe rolling over so he doesn't accidentally get kicked in the face during the night would be a good plan. He does so and, before he can think much more, falls asleep.*