(no subject)

[therealpm]

*He's almost finished setting up the hex for tomorrow (Frances is persistent, a simple phone block will not be enough), when he remembers the still rather pitiable state of his wards.*

Hmmmm.

*He finishes the spell, then dashes off a quick text.*


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

John,

change of plan. Coming over this evening. Prepare the spare bedroom.

-Peter


*He's pretty certain John still feels enough residual guilt to maintain the apartment's wards against an angry Frances.*

Comments

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Talking to who?

...hello?

Oh, it's you.

What do you want?

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

Oh Peter, it's almost as if you aren't pleased to hear from me. But if you insist on dispensing with pleasantries - I want to know what you're playing at that's got Bercow in such a state. Something about your wanker ex, yes?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

That is none of your business.

*He hangs up.*

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

I - oh, for fuck's sake.

*He presses redial, in the hope that Peter will have changed his mind in the last five seconds.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter picks up the call more out of habit than any desire to speak to Alastair.*

Well?

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

Well. Maybe you'd like to fill me in? You're supremely awful at keeping secrets, after all, so if you're up to anything dubious you may as well tell me now. Come on, I promise not to spread it around much.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

I wouldn't, I'm not and I find that promise exceedingly difficult to believe. Anything else?

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

Peter. I am more than happy to talk about this on your own terms, but one way or another, we are going to talk about it. Don't go back to him. Or so help me I will come over there and put you under house arrest until the fever passes.

Unless you're about to tell me you're only meeting up in order to bollock him for that time when he ripped out your heart in your hour of need and then vanished into the night like an aristocratic fucking Jack the Ripper. You do remember that time, don't you?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*A muscle in Peter's face twitches at the mention of house arrest. He replies snidely.*

How unusually diplomatic of you, Campbell. It's refreshing to hear you talk of stabbing a friend in the back in their hour of need, then vanishing off into the night as a bad thing instead of just politics as usual. You do remember that time, don't you?

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

That was one time! ... Ish. And it was politics, then. What Osborne did is different; it's just cold hard human relationships now, there's no excuses. Anyway, why the hell am I suddenly the bad guy? I'm not the one who dumped you!

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Twice. Actually.

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

That's what I said. Onceish.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Well.... now we've ascertained the limit of your numeracy, was there anything else you wanted to say?

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

Yes. I wanted to register my amazement at your willingness to forgive that arrogant arse-nosed Tory. Where's the shady campaign of revenge, Peter? At the very least, where's your self-respect?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Oh it's quite easy to forgive any unpleasantness- years of practice working with you.

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

Yeah, whatever, Saint Peter. A month or so ago you were crying at the very mention of his name and now you're ready to welcome him back with open arms? Fuck off.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Shall we start listing every time you've dissolved into tears? It won't be hard- every time there's been a Burnley match would be a good place to start.