OS 103.4 Five things you'd rather forget and ROTM 2009.27.C 1, 2, 4, 5, 6 - Various encounters
OOC: The first two should be egotistical aristocrat and sexy bodyguard, but I didn't read the two lines quite right and confused the two. Hence the egotistical bodyguard and sexy aristocrat.
1. An encounter or meeting with an egotistical bodyguard.
"You can't come in here."
Harry sighed, reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out his ID, showing it to the bodyguard.
"You still can't come in here." The bodyguard folded his arms and thrust out his chest.
Harry had come across the type before - so full of his own importance he was a real nuisance and would very likely get someone killed. However, since Harry couldn't very well reveal the full circumstances of his visit, that was difficult to explain anyway.
He looked down at the bodyguard's feet and then up again to take in his immaculate dinner jacket and just the hint of flesh between two of the buttons on the shirt. Harry put on his best false smile.
"You know you really should wear more comfortable shoes. I bet it's agony standing there for hours on end. And you must get cold too, without a vest on, especially now that the nights are getting cold."
"I don't get cold." The bodyguard lifted his chin.
"No, of course not," Harry said, soothingly. "Big man like you I imagine you're fine in all weathers."
The bodyguard hesitated at that. "Well, it does get a bit hot in the summer."
"More than a bit I'd say. That jacket looks thick."
"It is." He opened it to show Harry the label, "Nothing but the finest for her best bodyguard."
"Well, I say. That's very..." Harry paused, struggling for the word, since he knew nothing about clothes with labels on. "Fine."
"It is. And you should see what else I've got."
Harry kept the smile on, nodding and agreeing with everything the bodyguard (who turned out to be called Keith) said. Eventually, when the muscles in his face were starting to hurt, he managed to get inside and it turned out to be only just in time too.
The trouble was, though, that after that Keith seemed to be everywhere that Harry was. And it was very hard to carry on an undercover operation when a 6'6 tall man built like a rugby player called Harry's name and showed him his latest set of clothes. It got worse when Keith started bringing along some for Harry too. By the time Keith asked him to a romantic meal in a restaurant Harry found a convenient excuse to leave the country.
2. An encounter or meeting with a sexy aristocrat.
"Inspector," the woman, Miss Allen - call me Linda. practically purred at him. "Come in."
Harry swallowed hard and tried not to look downwards, which wasn't easy given that she seemed to be all leg and cleavage. As he walked into the room and put his back to her he sternly reminded himself to concentrate on his job.
"You called about a burglary?" It had sounded odd enough that the police had put the call through to him - during his time at MI5 he'd become the person everyone called about the strange stuff. But Harry didn't mind, at least it saved having to explain it to more people. If they chose to continue believing that aliens didn't exist there was only so much he could do.
"Well, it wasn't a burglary really." She walked over to him and Harry swore she must be purposely swaying her hips. No one walked like that unintentionally. "I was just coming back from lunch and I heard a noise upstairs. I thought it must be a burglar, but only Jenkins was about and he was in the garden. So although I was very scared-" she dropped her voice on those last two words "-I went to investigate."
"And?" he asked when she stopped.
"Come and see." She trailed her hand down his arm and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight.
She was the sort of woman he hated - the sort who threw themselves at men. But he had only recently split up with Maria and there was a part of him that wondered if maybe he could use her to make Maria jealous. Meanwhile, there was a case to investigate and he couldn't imagine anyone would make up a story quite like what she'd told the police just to trap a man. And anyway, she was half his age, she couldn't possibly be interested in him.
She smiled, taking his hand in hers and leading him upstairs. Harry wished his palms weren't so sweaty by this point and wrenched his mind back onto the job. "Did you see who the burglar was?" he asked her.
"No." She pouted slightly and Harry tried to remind his heart that it had no reason to beat that fast. "But he left something, and, oh! It's horrible."
From what he'd heard Harry would have to agree with her, but he wanted to see for himself. Despite the size of the house it wasn't far to the bedroom, where, sitting on the dressing table was a big egg. Miss Allen stepped behind him, and Harry put a hand around to keep her there. Her hand was cool on his shoulder and her breath hot on his neck.
So far, though, the egg looked ordinary, if a little bigger than the one he'd had for his breakfast. He frowned. "I don't quite see..." He broke off because Miss Allen's nails were digging into his shoulder. "Miss Allen, I wonder..." His eyes went wide as he looked round. What had previously been a particularly attractive woman was now what Harry could only describe as a monster.
"It just needs fertilizing," she said, and the voice was exactly the same.
Harry, with the instincts he hadn't lost since his travels with the Doctor, tore free of her grip at the expense of his blazer and soon had her anaesthetized with the aid of the instruments he always carried with him to these jobs, just in case.
Of course after that she stayed looking like a monster and he was hard pressed to get anyone to believe his story of why he'd fallen for something so flimsy and obvious. His colleagues might not be keen for him to forget this incident, but Harry certainly was.
3. An encounter or meeting with a bureaucrat.
"I'm telling you, it's all correct," Harry said for what must have been the fiftieth time that afternoon. All right, so he was exaggerating, but only a little.
"It doesn't sound very plausible, does it Mr Sullivan?"
Harry tried not to grind his teeth at being called that because he knew Mr Anstoble was refusing to use his proper title (and he had two to choose from) to annoy him. It was, however, the least annoying thing about the afternoon so far.
"It's the truth, damnit," Harry said, a little louder than necessary, and he banged his fist on the table for emphasis. Everyone in the room looked round at his outburst and Harry failed not to go red under their stares.
"There'll be no need for violence, Mr Sullivan."
Of course Mr Anstoble was calm. He wasn't the one trying to convince a jobsworth bureaucrat that while he had been missing for the past few years he was in fact on important NATO business, and not just trying to avoid paying his taxes.
His very calmness just enraged Harry more. "I think there's every need," he said, standing up. "If that's the way you treat a Commodore in Her Majesty's Navy, then I don't think I can deal with you any more. Good day to you." He snatched up his papers and stalked out, trying to ignore the gazes that followed him.
Once outside he leant against the wall and sighed. It was a sign of how frustrating the afternoon had been that he had lost his temper and he regretted it now. Not least because he was going to have to go back in there, apologise and begin all over again. It was safe to say it was not something he was looking forward to and he wished there was a way he could erase the last few minutes from everyone's minds.
4. An encounter or meeting with a fat, nude, bicyclist.
Harry went red in the face and looked away. He had seen the human body in many forms and sizes, but that was in a professional capacity and not on his walk to work. The man on the bicycle had been red faced, which wasn't a surprise since he did not look that fit. He was all for cycling of a way of getting fit, but it did rather require wearing clothes.
However, since he was no longer looking where he was going he unintentionally swayed into the cyclist's path and if there was anything more embarrassing than coming across a fat, naked cyclist, it was being run over by one.
5. An encounter or meeting with a bank robber.
Harry was fairly sure that these days, when most people tried to rob a bank they did it electronically. Or at least with some specialised tools that didn't involve threatening the customers in any way. Someone brandishing a revolver and shouting at everyone to 'get down' was the sort of thing that only happened in films.
So he was fairly confident in his refusal to do so. However, the bank robber was also confident in his aims, and shot Harry in the foot. Who then hopped about, screamed in pain and fell over, hitting his head on the desk and knocking himself out for the whole thing. He might as well have not been there and that's what he told anyone who asked.
1. An encounter or meeting with an egotistical bodyguard.
"You can't come in here."
Harry sighed, reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out his ID, showing it to the bodyguard.
"You still can't come in here." The bodyguard folded his arms and thrust out his chest.
Harry had come across the type before - so full of his own importance he was a real nuisance and would very likely get someone killed. However, since Harry couldn't very well reveal the full circumstances of his visit, that was difficult to explain anyway.
He looked down at the bodyguard's feet and then up again to take in his immaculate dinner jacket and just the hint of flesh between two of the buttons on the shirt. Harry put on his best false smile.
"You know you really should wear more comfortable shoes. I bet it's agony standing there for hours on end. And you must get cold too, without a vest on, especially now that the nights are getting cold."
"I don't get cold." The bodyguard lifted his chin.
"No, of course not," Harry said, soothingly. "Big man like you I imagine you're fine in all weathers."
The bodyguard hesitated at that. "Well, it does get a bit hot in the summer."
"More than a bit I'd say. That jacket looks thick."
"It is." He opened it to show Harry the label, "Nothing but the finest for her best bodyguard."
"Well, I say. That's very..." Harry paused, struggling for the word, since he knew nothing about clothes with labels on. "Fine."
"It is. And you should see what else I've got."
Harry kept the smile on, nodding and agreeing with everything the bodyguard (who turned out to be called Keith) said. Eventually, when the muscles in his face were starting to hurt, he managed to get inside and it turned out to be only just in time too.
The trouble was, though, that after that Keith seemed to be everywhere that Harry was. And it was very hard to carry on an undercover operation when a 6'6 tall man built like a rugby player called Harry's name and showed him his latest set of clothes. It got worse when Keith started bringing along some for Harry too. By the time Keith asked him to a romantic meal in a restaurant Harry found a convenient excuse to leave the country.
2. An encounter or meeting with a sexy aristocrat.
"Inspector," the woman, Miss Allen - call me Linda. practically purred at him. "Come in."
Harry swallowed hard and tried not to look downwards, which wasn't easy given that she seemed to be all leg and cleavage. As he walked into the room and put his back to her he sternly reminded himself to concentrate on his job.
"You called about a burglary?" It had sounded odd enough that the police had put the call through to him - during his time at MI5 he'd become the person everyone called about the strange stuff. But Harry didn't mind, at least it saved having to explain it to more people. If they chose to continue believing that aliens didn't exist there was only so much he could do.
"Well, it wasn't a burglary really." She walked over to him and Harry swore she must be purposely swaying her hips. No one walked like that unintentionally. "I was just coming back from lunch and I heard a noise upstairs. I thought it must be a burglar, but only Jenkins was about and he was in the garden. So although I was very scared-" she dropped her voice on those last two words "-I went to investigate."
"And?" he asked when she stopped.
"Come and see." She trailed her hand down his arm and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight.
She was the sort of woman he hated - the sort who threw themselves at men. But he had only recently split up with Maria and there was a part of him that wondered if maybe he could use her to make Maria jealous. Meanwhile, there was a case to investigate and he couldn't imagine anyone would make up a story quite like what she'd told the police just to trap a man. And anyway, she was half his age, she couldn't possibly be interested in him.
She smiled, taking his hand in hers and leading him upstairs. Harry wished his palms weren't so sweaty by this point and wrenched his mind back onto the job. "Did you see who the burglar was?" he asked her.
"No." She pouted slightly and Harry tried to remind his heart that it had no reason to beat that fast. "But he left something, and, oh! It's horrible."
From what he'd heard Harry would have to agree with her, but he wanted to see for himself. Despite the size of the house it wasn't far to the bedroom, where, sitting on the dressing table was a big egg. Miss Allen stepped behind him, and Harry put a hand around to keep her there. Her hand was cool on his shoulder and her breath hot on his neck.
So far, though, the egg looked ordinary, if a little bigger than the one he'd had for his breakfast. He frowned. "I don't quite see..." He broke off because Miss Allen's nails were digging into his shoulder. "Miss Allen, I wonder..." His eyes went wide as he looked round. What had previously been a particularly attractive woman was now what Harry could only describe as a monster.
"It just needs fertilizing," she said, and the voice was exactly the same.
Harry, with the instincts he hadn't lost since his travels with the Doctor, tore free of her grip at the expense of his blazer and soon had her anaesthetized with the aid of the instruments he always carried with him to these jobs, just in case.
Of course after that she stayed looking like a monster and he was hard pressed to get anyone to believe his story of why he'd fallen for something so flimsy and obvious. His colleagues might not be keen for him to forget this incident, but Harry certainly was.
3. An encounter or meeting with a bureaucrat.
"I'm telling you, it's all correct," Harry said for what must have been the fiftieth time that afternoon. All right, so he was exaggerating, but only a little.
"It doesn't sound very plausible, does it Mr Sullivan?"
Harry tried not to grind his teeth at being called that because he knew Mr Anstoble was refusing to use his proper title (and he had two to choose from) to annoy him. It was, however, the least annoying thing about the afternoon so far.
"It's the truth, damnit," Harry said, a little louder than necessary, and he banged his fist on the table for emphasis. Everyone in the room looked round at his outburst and Harry failed not to go red under their stares.
"There'll be no need for violence, Mr Sullivan."
Of course Mr Anstoble was calm. He wasn't the one trying to convince a jobsworth bureaucrat that while he had been missing for the past few years he was in fact on important NATO business, and not just trying to avoid paying his taxes.
His very calmness just enraged Harry more. "I think there's every need," he said, standing up. "If that's the way you treat a Commodore in Her Majesty's Navy, then I don't think I can deal with you any more. Good day to you." He snatched up his papers and stalked out, trying to ignore the gazes that followed him.
Once outside he leant against the wall and sighed. It was a sign of how frustrating the afternoon had been that he had lost his temper and he regretted it now. Not least because he was going to have to go back in there, apologise and begin all over again. It was safe to say it was not something he was looking forward to and he wished there was a way he could erase the last few minutes from everyone's minds.
4. An encounter or meeting with a fat, nude, bicyclist.
Harry went red in the face and looked away. He had seen the human body in many forms and sizes, but that was in a professional capacity and not on his walk to work. The man on the bicycle had been red faced, which wasn't a surprise since he did not look that fit. He was all for cycling of a way of getting fit, but it did rather require wearing clothes.
However, since he was no longer looking where he was going he unintentionally swayed into the cyclist's path and if there was anything more embarrassing than coming across a fat, naked cyclist, it was being run over by one.
5. An encounter or meeting with a bank robber.
Harry was fairly sure that these days, when most people tried to rob a bank they did it electronically. Or at least with some specialised tools that didn't involve threatening the customers in any way. Someone brandishing a revolver and shouting at everyone to 'get down' was the sort of thing that only happened in films.
So he was fairly confident in his refusal to do so. However, the bank robber was also confident in his aims, and shot Harry in the foot. Who then hopped about, screamed in pain and fell over, hitting his head on the desk and knocking himself out for the whole thing. He might as well have not been there and that's what he told anyone who asked.