in which Malcolm's day takes a turn for the worse
Who: Malcolm Tucker and Verona. Closed-ish. Send a note if you want in.
What: Vamps need blood. Malc has blood. Malc is in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Where: Out and about en route to the dining hall.
When: Today This week, at a point convenient to the rest of the plots. ^_^
Warnings: Malc's language and a bit of non-deadly bloodsucking.
Malcolm had been lying low, but he hadn't been idle. He'd been listening, watching, reading all the public postings he could get his hands on with the sort of attention he usually bent on ministerial interviews. By now he had a fairly good idea of who was who on board the Barge-the main thing that remained was to establish a firmer sense of who the more important sorts were and to approach them for ...
Something. Something that would help Malcolm fucking Tucker get a proper hold on his fucking destiny again, for one thing.
Malcolm pushed back from his desk and realised he was hungry. He'd forgotten to eat again; he simply wasn't used to having to manage his own meals without Sam about to pop in with a coffee or a bagel.
Well, fuck; it wasn't like anyone was going to bring him anything here. Fuckitall. He left his room and struck out for the dining hall.
What: Vamps need blood. Malc has blood. Malc is in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Where: Out and about en route to the dining hall.
When: Today This week, at a point convenient to the rest of the plots. ^_^
Warnings: Malc's language and a bit of non-deadly bloodsucking.
Malcolm had been lying low, but he hadn't been idle. He'd been listening, watching, reading all the public postings he could get his hands on with the sort of attention he usually bent on ministerial interviews. By now he had a fairly good idea of who was who on board the Barge-the main thing that remained was to establish a firmer sense of who the more important sorts were and to approach them for ...
Something. Something that would help Malcolm fucking Tucker get a proper hold on his fucking destiny again, for one thing.
Malcolm pushed back from his desk and realised he was hungry. He'd forgotten to eat again; he simply wasn't used to having to manage his own meals without Sam about to pop in with a coffee or a bagel.
Well, fuck; it wasn't like anyone was going to bring him anything here. Fuckitall. He left his room and struck out for the dining hall.