therealpm

Oh, it's still a terrible idea, but when I consider the current state of the parliamentary party it begins to look appealing.

Just think, that idiot is one of our better MPs.

*Peter's conversation with Jack is rather adorable. The juxtaposition with Bryant gives Fiona a brief fantasy of surreptitiously filming it and putting it on the internet- it's difficult to think of him as the dread Prince of Darkness when he's cooing over a dog, which means it would drive Peter crazy and help his reputation at the same time. But she'd have no idea where to start, and she couldn't film him tied to a bed in a cell, and anyway the press would just denounce it as more New Labour spin.*

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It wasn't even my idea! Anyway, even I couldn't counterbalance all their incompetence alone. Best to stick to the sidelines of the media battlefield.

... By which I mean stay completely out of it and not get drawn in again, dear, naturally.

*Alastair can't be sure what's going through Fiona's mind as she gazes at Peter tickling Jack, but unless he's mistaken it's a disturbing combination of affection and scheming. In response he reaches down to scratch Jack behind the ears.*

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*Jack and Peter have re-familiarised to the point of mutual nose bopping (and in Jack's case, face licking), when Alastair interrupts with an ill-judged attempt to pet the dog. The two turn to give him identical glares and warning growls.*

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*Alastair jumps back, and Fiona sniggers.*

It looks like you have a new member of your pack, Peter! Better than Jack whimpering and running off to cower behind the statues in the Members' Lobby like he did last time, I suppose. I had a hell of a time getting him out of there.

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*Alastair turns his glare from Peter and Jack to Fiona, and rubs his hand as if it had been bitten.*

That's gratitude for you. We should just leave Jack here if he prefers Peter so much - they can chase squirrels together.

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We.... he was just startled. That's all.

*Peter strokes behind Jack's ears and the little dog calms enough to sit down.*

He's not terribly good at chasing squirrels, are you? No you're not... no your're not... much better at getting your own tail... silly Jack...

*Peter tickles Jack under his chin whilst saying this, rapidly falling back into pet-speak.*

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We can't leave him; it's against DEFRA regulations to confine an animal in the same room as a werewolf. Remember? We asked John back in the beginning after fucking Osborne completely bailed as a pet sitter.

Okay Peter, get another birthday kiss from your new, species-appropriate boyfriend and then we've got to go. Ali's got some dinner to speak at in Leeds.

I promise we'll bring Jack back to you soon, all right?

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Good grief. Hurry up and recover, Peter, before your dog dies of heartache. You make such a cute couple, I almost feel bad doing this.

*He clips Jack's lead to his collar, taking care not to touch him too much this time.*

This has been nice, but I'm just so in demand. Speak to my agent next time and we'll talk fees, yes? See you later.

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Osborne's bailed on pretty much everything.

*Peter replies, in a rather quieter voice than usual, staring fixedly down at Jack.*

Good luck with the speech.

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Wait, what?

*She puts up a hand to stop Alastair, who's about to tug the dog off the bed.*

I'm guessing you don't mean repairing the British economy.

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*Peter shrugs awkwardly, eyes still focused on Jack, and chooses to focus on his satisfaction at keeping his voice level rather than the issue that might cause his voice to wobble in the first place.*

He bailed.

When the confirmation came through from DEFRA, he... left.

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*Alastair groans loudly and slaps a hand to his forehead.*

That's what you didn't want to tell us? Jesus... I can't say I'm surprised. He was always an odious twat, and you're better off without him. Maybe now you'll see that too, hmm?

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It's true, in years to come you'll probably come to regard this as the best birthday present you've ever had. It's like Ali always says about his breakdown; you find out who your real friends are.

*She sits down awkwardly on the side of the bed, half-tipped onto Peter's lap by the rail, and wraps an arm around his shoulders.*

Still, it must feel like shit right now.

Peter, he left you because there's something wrong with him, not because there's something wrong with you. Same Old Tories, yeah?

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*Peter shrugs again. He doesn't particularly want to relay the entire awful phone call, complete with accusations of being a monster.*

He's been cut out of the will. Beyond much there's not much, at present, that I can do.

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Not much you can do to console your poor bruised heart, or not much you can do to wreak spectacular revenge? Because I could lend you a hand with the second one.

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*That elicits a snort of amusement.*

I wasn't aware I still had one...?

I have complete confidence in your abilities regarding the latter.

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*Fiona gives his shoulders a gentle squeeze*

No one who watched you cooing over that dog for the past fifteen minutes could doubt it.

In my experience spectacular revenge is often a crucial stage of the healing process. I'm sure we can think of something appropriately gruesome to do to your arse-nosed ex, although it will be difficult to top the things he does to himself.

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*Alastair rolls his eyes but decides to hold back on the gagging motions for now.*

Damn right we will. Say, how hard would it be to smuggle him in here next full moon?

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