(no subject)
Title: For Good Measure
Fandom: Discworld
Characters: Carcer Dun, Findthee Swing
Prompt: 041. Shapes
Word Count: 191 (if you count the run-together phrases as one)
Rating: PG-13 for implied torture and language
Summary: Carcer joins the Particulars, as mentioned but never actually seen in the book.
Author's Notes: characters (C) Pratchett, fic (C) TMOH
The cold steel of the ruler pressed against Carcer’s forehead; his ear; his eyelid. He could feel the finger tracing down the strip of metal, counting off the inches.
“Five…three…twoandahalf…,” murmured the captain.
Hands crept over Carcer’s skull, feeling the hills and valleys beneath his hair.
“Intellect, yes...independenceand…charisma…”
He felt for all the world like some rich bastard’s show horse, being poked and prodded like this while he watched the man write all his measurements down in his neat little notebook. What was he going to do next, check his teeth and make him trot round the room?
Instead, the captain set down the calipers and gave him an odd little half-smile.
“Itseems that your…criminal tendancieshave been…muchexaggerated. The faultofyour…environment, I presume. You are an honestman…Sergeant.”
“Sergeant.” Carcer grinned. “I don’t got to take no oath or anything?”
“We in the…Particulars findthat oaths arequite…unnescessary. Besides, yourface has…alreadyproven…your honesty, hasitnot?”
“O’course it has, sir.”
The door behind him opened, a little hesitantly, and a very un-uniformed man stepped inside. He was holding a crate of ginger beer.
“An’ now,” said Carcer, grinning again, “I suppose I oughta keep my half of the bargain….”