The Gene Genie, lives on his back...
Finishing his drink, Gene spared the newspaper clipping on his wall one last glance before getting to his feet and pulling his jacket back on. The lights flickered off behind him and he straightened his tie as he stepped out of his office. Everyone else was already off having a plonk, and he refused to sit behind his desk and mope about Sam-bloody-Tyler.
He didn't say anything when he saw Drake slide onto a stool at the bar, he just watched and then wandered over, filling her glass with what he and the boys were already drinking. There was something far too lovely in the way she smiled at him as he walked away again and sat back down in the corner with Chris and Ray, and though they'd only just met, he could tell DI Drake was going to be a handful. Maybe two handfuls if he was lucky enough.
One bottle turned into two, and though Gene could hold his drink better than most men, he was slightly sloshed by the time Luigi was closing up. Still, the barman made no move to kick him out, instead watching with amusement as the other officers left and Gene sunk lower in his seat.
Strange after all this time that he'd still turn to the bottle to wash away his memories. You'd have thought he'd have learned by now that it did bugger all. "Bastard," he said, swearing to himself as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "Bloody useless bastard."
He only nodded off for a moment, but he jerked awake at the sound of a jukebox blasting into life. A familiar tune started to play, but Gene hardly noticed as he blinked and took in his surroundings. No bar, no booze… Far too clean to be his own place and not nice enough to be Drake's.
He rubbed his face roughly, sitting up on the sofa he'd been sprawled out on.
"Oh, you have got to be bloody joking. No one ever warned me that insanity was contagious," he growled to himself. "Right. Right, if I'm dreaming, then in a moment DI Drake's going to walk through that door with her knockers out and knickers off," he decided, folding his arms over his chest and waiting.
It was only then that he paid any attention to the song the jukebox was playing.
"He's so simple minded he can't drive his module
He bites on the neon and sleeps in the capsule
Loves to be loved, loves to be loved
Oh, jean genie, lives on his back
The jean genie, loves chimney stacks
And he's outrageous, he screams and he bawls
The jean genie, let yourself go!"
(See this post in slated before tagging, thanks!)
He didn't say anything when he saw Drake slide onto a stool at the bar, he just watched and then wandered over, filling her glass with what he and the boys were already drinking. There was something far too lovely in the way she smiled at him as he walked away again and sat back down in the corner with Chris and Ray, and though they'd only just met, he could tell DI Drake was going to be a handful. Maybe two handfuls if he was lucky enough.
One bottle turned into two, and though Gene could hold his drink better than most men, he was slightly sloshed by the time Luigi was closing up. Still, the barman made no move to kick him out, instead watching with amusement as the other officers left and Gene sunk lower in his seat.
Strange after all this time that he'd still turn to the bottle to wash away his memories. You'd have thought he'd have learned by now that it did bugger all. "Bastard," he said, swearing to himself as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "Bloody useless bastard."
He only nodded off for a moment, but he jerked awake at the sound of a jukebox blasting into life. A familiar tune started to play, but Gene hardly noticed as he blinked and took in his surroundings. No bar, no booze… Far too clean to be his own place and not nice enough to be Drake's.
He rubbed his face roughly, sitting up on the sofa he'd been sprawled out on.
"Oh, you have got to be bloody joking. No one ever warned me that insanity was contagious," he growled to himself. "Right. Right, if I'm dreaming, then in a moment DI Drake's going to walk through that door with her knockers out and knickers off," he decided, folding his arms over his chest and waiting.
It was only then that he paid any attention to the song the jukebox was playing.
"He's so simple minded he can't drive his module
He bites on the neon and sleeps in the capsule
Loves to be loved, loves to be loved
Oh, jean genie, lives on his back
The jean genie, loves chimney stacks
And he's outrageous, he screams and he bawls
The jean genie, let yourself go!"
(See this post in slated before tagging, thanks!)