RL with DCI Gene Hunt

[out_of_my_time]

'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

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[manc_sheriff]

'I am.' Gene waves towards the two empty glasses and noticeable lack of coins on the bar. He knocks back the rest of the beer and slides the third glass near its mates. 'Your round,' he says, and returns Sam's grin with one of his own -- slightly sharper -- smiles.

It's not long since he's been here, a few hours maybe since leaving CID and stopping off for a quick meal with Gladys. Not that it was actually with her, as she dropped the plate in front of him before retreating to the bedroom, but that's nothing new. She figured out even before he did that he was married to the job, which Gene respects her for. She always did have a sound head on her shoulders. He supposes she would need one, to put up with him for so long. It's fine, for what it is, marriage, and Gene has enough beer in him to appreciate that right now

[out_of_my_time]

Ah. Marvellous. Just like the Guv; get right down to business without bothering to ask any questions first. Not that he would have expected anything else, really

[manc_sheriff]

The brew tastes better than the first three, if only because he didn't have to do any slamming the bar and gently remind Nelson that he'd get his fair as soon as Sam arrived with his purse. Gene watches the exchange between them, both curious and a little envious of the way Sam relates to him. Nelson's a good bloke for a foreigner and Gene understands the bond between barkeep and drinker, but he's also seen Sam going off on him with one of his addled-brained ideas, the ones that makes Gene wonder what's really the story behind Sam's transfer.

Gene swallows and glances over at Sam when Sam looks at him. He turns back to the line of taps at the back of the bar until Sam says something.

'Well, it weren't to have you stare at me like some great poof. I'm not that charming, Tyler.' He takes another large swig and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. 'Thought you could do with a little spirit. 'Gene nods towards the rack of bottles. 'And you forgot the chaser.'

[out_of_my_time]

The poof jibe is not even worth responding to, so Sam just watches Gene levelly when he jerks his head back towards the bottles lining the wall. An insult and an evasion already, and he's not been here five minutes. He can only imagine what the rest of the night's going to be like.

'I said I'd buy you a drink, Guv, and I've just bought you four. You can use your own coin if you want anything more.'

Not the best way to get on the man's good side, all things considered, but Sam can't quite bring himself to care. The beer's good, but it's not enough to soothe the tension at the base of his skull; he's loathe to think of himself on any of the same terms as Gene Hunt in that regard, but a scotch or three might be just the thing tonight. He takes another long draw at his pint.

'Still didn't answer me question, y'know.'

[manc_sheriff]

'You always bring it back to your facts and figures, don't you, even this,' Gene says, though not unkindly, raising his drink. It's not exactly meant to be a toast but not exactly meant to not be a toast either. He drinks without waiting for Sam to raise his glass and goes back to staring somewhere vaguely in front of him. 'I figured you had enough smarts to know how rounds work. It don't count without a chaser. You're zero for four as is

[out_of_my_time]

He's half-tempted to do something incredibly stupid- not that he exactly knows what- but the Guv's giving him that measuring, sideways look of his, and Nelson's waiting with two tumblers and a raised eyebrow, so he doesn't. Instead, he slumps slightly onto his elbows, shooting Gene a look that says he hasn't actually won, and digs in his pockets for the money. The drinks slide across the bar and Sam knocks half his back in one go, grimacing a little at the sting of it. Nelson looks affronted

[manc_sheriff]

Gene snags the look Sam sends his way, watches how he sort of digs himself down and in, at once both resistent and yielding and all the little contradictions that Gene can't imagine how they get coiled up in such a waify little frame. A fighter, is Sam, no matter what the battle. Gene smirks a little at the determination Sam has when he knocks back the whiskey

[out_of_my_time]

'It's not a drink I bloody need, it's some answers.'

It's little more than a mutter, however, and quickly drowned in more whiskey as he joins Gene in surveying the bar. Apparently, that's all he's going to be able to do tonight, unless he feels like drinking himself into a catatonic stupor. A heavy sigh escapes him as his gaze trawls back and forth, focussing on nothing in particular, and he taps the rim of his tumbler against his bottom lip.

After several interminable moments, Sam speaks again. He isn't looking at Gene, but it's clear his words are directed towards him.

'Aren't you at least curious?' He can't quite bring himself to say it out loud, but it ought to be obvious what he's talking about. 'I mean, the thing just shows up in your office and you hardly bat an eye. Don't you want to know where it came from, how it got here?'

[manc_sheriff]

Gene catches only half of whatever Sam says, drowned into the glass as it is, but he picks up on drink and answers. He assumes Sam wants to trade one for the other

[out_of_my_time]

Sam bristles a little at the tone in Gene's voice, and he hunches in towards himself, just slightly. For all he clashes with Hunt, for all he is- mostly- the man's equal, this is something he genuinely doesn't understand about him. How he can be so curious about something and not pursue it, not try and find out the truth of the thing. How he somehow seems to be able to just accept it. Sam can't imagine that. It's driving him mental as is and he's doing everything he can to figure where the bloody thing came from. Not, of course, that there is much he can do, not when he and Gene Hunt are the only ones in the entire world at the moment in possession of them

[manc_sheriff]

Sam is infuriating. Abso-bloody-lutely infuriating. Because now that the ponce has shut up -- dammit, Gene wants to know. The one time the bastard stops flapping his gums all over the place and Gene can't help himself but be curious.

Maybe there's just enough liquor in him to force it. Maybe he just likes shoving Sam back when he's resolute to stay in one place. Whatever it is, Gene knocks back the rest of his drink in one go and throw some coins on the bar.

'Forget the drink, Nelson,' he says, and grabs Sam by the collar. 'DI Tyler is needed urgently back at CID.' He yanks at Sam before the man can contradict him and pulls him to his feet. 'We need to get some sorting out done and if a drink isn't suiting your arse for the night, maybe a late night at the office will.'

Using his body weight and grip as motivation, Gene propels them towards the door and out to where the Cortina is parked. 'Get in,' he orders Sam and fingers the keys.

[out_of_my_time]

It says something about Sam and Gene that it doesn't even garner them a second glance from most of the clientèle when Gene grabs Sam by the collar and forcibly drags him out the door. Sam, however, only has the briefest of moments to reflect on this before the Guv shoves him up next to the Cortina, practically hurling him into the car. He's more than ready to square himself for a fight- indeed, his hands fist themselves almost instinctively at his sides, but it seems that Gene, at the moment, is not interested in giving him a duffing up. At least not a physical one

[manc_sheriff]

The wheels screech at the Cortina jerks forward. Gene declines the accelerator, enjoying the tight thrill of adreneline as he pulls a sharp right at the next corner. He takes a sudden sharp left when Sam sighs, hoping a slam against the door will knock some of the sour mood out of him

[out_of_my_time]

'Nipping this in the bud?' He echoes incredulously. What precisely the Guv thinks he's nipping, Sam doesn't know; if that's just what he's like, it's not exactly something Gene can simply prune away. Either way, though, there's no answer; either Gene just ignores him completely or his words are drowned in the sudden screech of tyres as the Cortina whips around into an improbable parking job worthy of any action movie ever made.

'You know,' he offers, falling into step at Gene's side as the DCI shoves his way through the doors to CID and starts striding down the corridor, 'That car might actually last five more years if you drove it at a halfway reasonable speed.'

He doesn't expect an answer.

When they finally reach Hunt's office, though, he turns, lifting an eyebrow. 'Right. Computer on the desk.' He jerks his head at it. 'What d'you want me to do about it? Tell you what it is, what it does- I have done. Why it's here? No fucking idea.' He exhales angrily. 'What d'you want me to do, Guv?'

[manc_sheriff]

'You know,' Gene replies without so much of a blink in Sam's direction, 'your teeth might actually last five more minutes if you shut your mouth once in a while.'

He barrles through the door to his office and collapses in the chair behind his desk. A flask magically appears from one of his many pockets and Gene takes a deep swig.

'Obviously it's to ask me pointless questions about it.' He holds out the flask to Sam, carefully avoiding placing his arm anywhere near the computer. Sam seems about ready to jump it as much as he is to explain anything

[out_of_my_time]

Sam shakes his head in something like wonderment. The man is just lounging there, cool as a proverbial cucumber, and the computer sits on the desk before him, gleamingly silver, taunting Sam with its incongruous modernity in Hunt's dim, cigarette-smelling office. Sam bristles at nothing in particular. The idea of just smashing the damned thing to bits is enticing, he has to admit, but that'll get him nowhere