31 October, 8am. Miles Mandelson's house.

[therealpm]

*Peter sips his very milky tea and does his best to ignore Miles, who is chattering away about a "very good physiotherapist, he lives in the next village.  I'll give him a ring and see if he can come round today."  Eventually, he points out that actually, he is perfectly capable of walking and doesn't need any assistance; a notion that Miles quickly shoots down by reminding him of his ill-fated attempts to get out of the car and walk up the garden path by himself yesterday.

His mood further deteriorates when Miles points out that being a werewolf would be an excellent hallowen costume.  There's a pang of loss at the thought of his other form, which he doesn't quite know how to deal with.  Instead, he gets out his phone, ignoring Miles' protestations about work at the breakfast table and texts John:*

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

Bercow,

I haven't died.
Miles is somehow managing to be even more annoying than you.
wish the children a Happy Hallowe'en for me.

-Mandelson

Comments

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter eats a couple more mouthfuls of porridge, then pushes the bowl away. He's not hungry and he feels a bit sick. Besides, his arm has started aching and shaking again, and being unable to walk more than a few steps is undignified enough- he doesn't want to spill porridge all over himself as well.*

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

John,

I am disappointed, on both counts.

-Peter

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Text from 078## ######

Peter,

I am sure you have much more pressing and interesting things to do today than worry about my attire.

-John

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*He scowls as Miles returns and pressures him to eat more.*

I'm not hungry.

"You have to eat something- you're malnourished and it's slowing down your body's ability to heal."

I'm not hungry. I just feel ill. And I have a headache. You don't have any neurofen, do you?

*Miles looks discontented, but wanders off to fetch some painkillers. Peter, meanwhile, checks his text messages.*


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

John,

I make time for those in need.

-Peter

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Text from 078## ######

Peter,

I thank you for your concern but I am not "in need" as you so eloquently put it. I am, in fact, rather busy.

-John

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter swallows down a couple of painkillers and waits for his headache to recede. Miles offers him an arm, and they walk slowly through to the living room, where several warm blankets have already been laid out next to an armchair with a view both of the garden and the TV. Apparently Miles has prevailed upon his physiotherapist friend to visit this afternoon. Peter makes a mental note to have a nap.*

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

John,

doubtful, given you no longer have guard duty.

-Peter

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Text from 078## ######

Peter,

Now that you are once again well, I can return more fully to my job as a constituency MP, local campaigner and Speaker of the House of Commons.

I also have a very important tree to plant later.

-John

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Miles sets a pint glass of milk down in front of Peter with an instruction to drink it all. Instead, Peter picks up his phone.*

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

John,

....a tree. Your life is one of unbridled excitement.

-Peter

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Text from 078## ######

Peter,

Indeed. Now, if you don't mind, I have PMQs to prepare for.

-John

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

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

John,

why, are you still unsure of the procedures involved? I can text you prompts if necessary.

-Peter

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Text from 078## ######

Peter,

No thank you, Peter.

-John