(Untitled)

[di_or_dci]

" -- out of here! Let me out of h -- "

Apparently DI Sam Tyler was not expecting the door to give way, no matter how hard he was shoving at it.

It means that once it does open, he goes sprawling, catching himself on hands and knees and taking a deep breath.

Okay, two deep breaths

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[themanclion]

About ten seconds after he finds himself on the floor, there's a hand under his arm, attempting to drag him upright.

'Oh get up, y'big girl. Wha's the matter, been on the gin on th' way back from the 'ospital?'

[di_or_dci]

"Ge -- Guv."

Brilliant.

The pained look on Sam's face gives way to a rueful smile, even if it takes a lot of effort.

"Don't I bloody wish. Why else d'you think I showed up here?"

Talking about drinks'll cover for the way his hands are shaky, right?

[themanclion]

'Well I dunno, Gladys. It ain' normal t'fall over before y'start drinkin'.'

But Sam's a weird kind of guy. Maybe that can explain the shaking hands all on its own. Or maybe he's a secret alchi and has the DT's. That would be perfectly acceptable but he acts too uptight for it to possibly be true.

And now he's bored of thinking about it.

'What y'havin' then? I'll get the firs' round in.'

[di_or_dci]

"Guess I'll have to fix that right quick then, eh?"

Maybe someone other than Sam would protest the use of Gladys, but 1) it's not going to do Sam a bit of good and 2) it's not going to affect his efficacy as a police officer.

And since 3) it seems to put Gene in a halfway decent mood --

"Whiskey -- make it a double."

It's been a long few days.

[themanclion]

Gene pulls a face at him like as if I'd order anythin' else, ya tart and wanders off to the bar, sparking up a fag as he goes. A minute later he's back, holding a glass out.

'Y'look like you've seen the ghost o'Christmas Future, Sam. Wha's up? It tell ya Santa's bringin' you a lump o'coal this year?'

[di_or_dci]

Sam just snorts, reaching out to take the glass.

"Ta."

And after a swallow of his drink --

"Better that than some bastard in a sheet pointin' out my death, right?"

In Sam's case it's more disembodied voices and a creepy little girl rather than a black-robed figure, but he's not going to mention that.

Only Annie gets to hear about the nuttier parts of his existence.

And even she's probably getting sick of them.

[themanclion]

This is good because Gene doesn't want to hear such things. He'd only pull his best bzuh? face at him, then laugh, shout a bit and possibly punch him around a few times to knock some sense into him.

It'd be for his own good, of course.

'S'pose so.'

Sam really does look a bit peaky. Maybe he hit him too hard in that little scrap they had. Maybe he needs some sympathy.

'If yer gonna chuck up, there's a bin over there.'

[di_or_dci]

"I think I'll pass, thanks," Sam says dryly, taking another swallow of whiskey.

"But don't let that stop you."

Not that Gene looks unsteady on his feet, but it's the principle of the thing.

[themanclion]

Insulting!

'I haven' los' me guts since I were in the Army, I'll 'ave you know. Cheeky beggar.'

He throws himself into a chair in that boisterous way he has and plants his feet firmly on the table. About a second later, he's finished his drink.

'Your round.'

(There might be a hint of challenge in that.)

[di_or_dci]

"Whatever you say, Guv."

Sam accompanies this with what might be described as a cheeky grin with a hard edge, just because.

"Try not to tip over while I'm gone."

[themanclion]

Gene shoots daggers at his back as he walks away. This is what he gets for trying to be nice?

'Should've 'it him 'arder,' he mutters to himself, and spends the time alone pondering what Tyler would look like with no teeth.

Probably scare grannies in the street and get scumbags excited. Probably for the best they stay in his head, for now.

'Oi, Nancy! I'm thirsty over 'ere!'

Gene gets bored quickly.

[di_or_dci]

"What's that? You want water?" Sam calls back.

"Consider it done, Guv."

He brings back two pints of bitter anyway.

There's no sense being that much of a bastard.

Not today, at any rate.

[justcallmefee]

Fiona is dressed for the range today. Black jeans, black turtleneck, black combat boots, black ball cap with her pony tail sticking out the back. She's carrying a canvas duffle that is clearly full of heavy metal, if the thud it makes when it hits the floor at Gene's feet is any evidence at all. She pulls her dark shades off and props them on top of her hat.

"So did you bring your piece?"

[themanclion]

His hand automatically moves to hover over his crotch.

'Never leave the 'ouse withou' it,' is the solemn reply.

Beat.

'Or d'you mean me gun?'

Without giving her a chance to reply, he looks over at Sam and smirks.

'Look ou' Tyler, ninja circus's in town.'

Mmm, bitter. Brilliant.

[di_or_dci]

Sam scoffs, rolling his eyes a bit before looking at Fiona.

"Oh, leave off, Guv. No one's impressed."

And Sam really doesn't want to see it.

Any of it.

[justcallmefee]

Fiona just rolls her eyes.

"Hi. I'm Fiona. You must be Sam. This man here is about to owe me a bottle of the bar's finest whiskey. And I'm here to collect."

Drunk at the firing range? Sounds like a party to her.