(Untitled)

[themanclion]

Gene bounces into Milliways, exuding energy the way he always does when he's on the trail of a scumbag. He grins when he sees where he is - pint, excellent! - and then he sees the television above the bar. It appears like there's some sort of event going on in London, but he doesn't recognise the names of those involved. William and Catherine?

Comments

[scots_wolf]

"You don't like your own royalty, Englishman?" Urquhart asks, leaning against a pillar nearby, smirking.

He appears, uncalled and probably unwelcome as always, like a crow that instinctively knows where a juicy new carrion can be found.

[themanclion]

'What?'

He turns his head blearily, his hand wrapped loosely around his glass.

'Yeah. I like royalty.'

He thinks. Most of the time.

[scots_wolf]

"For that, you're remarkably keen on not seeing them on that screen thing," Urquhart points out.

[themanclion]

'Why should I? Nearly forty years in the future f'me.'

He doesn't want to think about it even for a second.

[hello_freak]

Not long after Gene settles in, another figure appears in the door, his suit rumpled and a bit dingy, his hair coiffed with the same care one might give a dust mop. He's carrying a package under his arm; something heavy, judging by the way it lands on the bar with a thud. It's less of a package and more of a swathe of butcher's paper inside a thin plastic bag, the handles tied neatly so they can carry the weight.

If one were to guess the size and shape of the package, the first shape that might come to mind is a human head.

"Cup of tea and my journals, please. Thank you."

He looks like he hasn't slept in days, but it doesn't seem to have put much of a damper on his usual intense demeanour.

[themanclion]

He is glad of the distraction.

'Sherlock Holmes, ain' it?'

He says this with the air of someone who still doesn't quite belive it, even though he does. He just wants to be awkward to give himself something to think of that isn't that noise in his head.

'Wha's that?'

His head jerks at the package.

[hello_freak]

Sherlock glances up at his name, and recognises the face. (And myriad other small details that place this man in his proper time frame; that suit jacket for one, not to mention the width of the tie, and those god awful loafers.)

"DCI Hunt. It's a head."

Mm. Tea.

[themanclion]

'A head,' he repeats, blankly.

For some reason, he has no trouble believing it. This bloke has a touch of the mental about him, he can feel it plain as day even in this state.

'Why...or maybe how is a better question...how is it you're carryin' a head aroun'?'

[guppy_sandhu]

"You all right? You've gone a funny colour." Guppy says, sitting down nearby.

He's got Fry with him, but the kid is currently occupied with twirling around.

[themanclion]

He resists the urge to snap out, 'do I look alright?' and just shoots a glare at him instead, before draining a double whiskey.

'Peachy.'

[guppy_sandhu]

"Are you still having those funny turns?" Guppy asks, quietly.

Gene wasn't looking at the observation window that time, far as he could tell.

[themanclion]

'No.'

And it isn't said in a way where it could mean anything but yes. For example, he's having one right now, swaying slightly and white as a ghost.