[ Testing the voice ] Nelson's w/ Chris Skelton

[flickedmethevs]

"Oi, Chris!"

Ray tips his chair back, leans into Chris' right side, and gestures to the telly with the lit end of his cigarette. He's not speaking particularly loudly, but he isn't trying to be quiet either.

"Which would you say is better: football season, or sex?"

Comments

[themanclion]

'Not a fair question, Raymondo.'

Gene barrels out of the door from the gents, a fag dangling from his lips.

'He's only got workin' knowledge of football. Nelson, another pint if you'd be so kind.'

Drink acquired (and Chris's expression ignored), he drops himself into the chair opposite.

[themanclion]

Gene rolls his eyes theatrically and sighs.

'Bloody 'ell, Ray, I don' care. Make somethin' up. Use your imagination.'

Because he knows Ray has one, when he can be arsed to use it. Which, y'know, he doesn't always encourage.

[flickedmethevs]

Ray Carling with imagination is a dangerous proposition. He's already such a clever-dick, he'll come forward to attacking every duty with the same vision and voracity. Top-notch DI material, him. Never mind the way his face is pulled together, brow deeply wrinkled like he's really straining himself to think.

He tics an eyebrow and half-shrugs, taking a smoke. Cutting his gaze to the Guv on the exhale, he smiles and points with his middle finger, fag pinched between the rest.

"Anyway, you know Tamsin Clarke -- works the Plough down in Chorlton-cum-Hardy? Dead heat in a Zeppelin race," he says with the proper hand gestures; "She'll 'ave you cum hardy, all right. Says she has a new friend up from Blackley. Thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six."

You heard him right.