Comments | flickedmethevs: Conversations with Dead People

flickedmethevs

Conversations with Dead People

Oct 30, 2011 16:20

“Attention!”

He almost falls out of his chair and onto his arse. Cabinets and drawers rattle when he springs to his feet - I’m up, I’m up - chair rolling off somewhere behind him until it just fades away ( Read more... )

gene hunt, 1973, conversations with dead people, lom

Comments 4

themanclion October 30 2011, 22:10:20 UTC

'RAYMONDO!'

Gene's striding through the bar, yanking one of his driving gloves on.

'There you are. C'mon, arse out the chair. We need to go sort out that blag on London Road.'

He stops in front of him, grimace firmly in place, pulling the other glove on before clapping his hands together in dark glee.

'Got Stubbsy's name all over it, that one. I can feel his bollocks nestlin' in the palm of me 'ands.'

flickedmethevs October 30 2011, 23:04:45 UTC

He jerks, banging his head on a tray passing by before falling out of his chair and onto his arse this time. A plate of fried paradoxes shower down on him.

He shakes himself off. The Guv is upside down, talking about some case on London Road. That's not right. He wasn't here a moment ago. Ray frowns hard, putting the piece together. ...Bollocks, the case on London Road. He fell asleep.

"Aye, Guv." He rights himself quick, dusting off the shoulders of his jacket. The stains on his shirt aren't new, nicotine and butter from a bacon sarnie -- shit, he didn't see the brown sauce before now.

Wait a minute.

He blinks. Hard.

Something doesn't feel right.

themanclion October 30 2011, 23:09:27 UTC

Gene stares at him like he's grown another head or something. And certainly doesn't do anything girly, like help him up off the floor.

He does look him up and down once he's on his feet.

'Jesus, look at the state of you. We're supposed t'bang scumbags up, Ray, not look like 'em. Tidy yourself up, for Chris'sakes.'

He marches on. Ray'll follow. He always does.

flickedmethevs October 31 2011, 00:24:55 UTC

This time he lingers a bit. He doesn't chance a look over himself. He already knows what he'll see.

"Aye, sir."

His dream -- because that's what it was, what it had to have been -- is still fresh in his mind, but it doesn't take him more than a second to correct himself.

"Guv."

They've got work to do. Responsibilities. Ray follows on the Guv's heels, not making him wait at the door. Once they're out, the Guv'll tell him what needs to be done.

His hands close over the four-in-hand knot in his tie, sliding the gold polyester up tight.