RL with DCI Gene Hunt
'You're buying me a drink.' DCI Hunt had told him curtly. 'Tomorrow.'
Sam hadn't bothered to ask why; it wasn't as if it was important enough to needle the man about, anyway, and certainly he'd find out when he bought the Guv his drink anyway. Like as not it was some stupid attempt to get him out of the station so he wouldn't 'get in the way' of some important process or another. Meaning, of course, preventing him from imposing some actual police procedure on the travesty that DCI Hunt's station generally called justice.
He hadn't asked what time, either. The Guv would be at the Railway Arms from the time he got off work to the time he went home to his missus; he could wait for Sam, if he had to.
Now that it is, in fact, tomorrow, Sam stays late, as per usual, sorting through papers absently and trying to take his mind off the laptop that had apparently randomly decided to show up in his flat. A laptop with internet access, no less, in a time when there is no internet to access. No, it's no use. No point giving himself a headache before drinks with Gene Hunt. It's an inevitability anyway, but there's no need to speed it along.
When he arrives, the Arms is as packed as ever; the usual mix of football yobs and off-work coppers. The Guv's already at the bar, and Sam slides onto a stool next to him with a sardonic grin.
'Thought you were waiting for me to buy you a drink.'
Sam hadn't bothered to ask why; it wasn't as if it was important enough to needle the man about, anyway, and certainly he'd find out when he bought the Guv his drink anyway. Like as not it was some stupid attempt to get him out of the station so he wouldn't 'get in the way' of some important process or another. Meaning, of course, preventing him from imposing some actual police procedure on the travesty that DCI Hunt's station generally called justice.
He hadn't asked what time, either. The Guv would be at the Railway Arms from the time he got off work to the time he went home to his missus; he could wait for Sam, if he had to.
Now that it is, in fact, tomorrow, Sam stays late, as per usual, sorting through papers absently and trying to take his mind off the laptop that had apparently randomly decided to show up in his flat. A laptop with internet access, no less, in a time when there is no internet to access. No, it's no use. No point giving himself a headache before drinks with Gene Hunt. It's an inevitability anyway, but there's no need to speed it along.
When he arrives, the Arms is as packed as ever; the usual mix of football yobs and off-work coppers. The Guv's already at the bar, and Sam slides onto a stool next to him with a sardonic grin.
'Thought you were waiting for me to buy you a drink.'