Who: Malcolm Tucker What: "A day in the life", originated by Rycca for Rube. See also Morgan and Dean. Where: Various locations all over the Barge. When: Some day early this week, before the flood hits.
6:30 AM - Men's communal bathroomf_ckitybyeApril 28 2010, 18:25:48 UTC
[This is one of the few times anyone will ever catch Malcolm in anything other than his full suit. He's washed up and mostly dressed-plain white undershirt, trousers. He's shaving and getting ready to greet the day.]
Re: 6:30 AM - Men's communal bathroomchrist_onabikeApril 28 2010, 18:39:54 UTC
[Paddy got up early or went to bed really, really late to avoid running into anyone in the showers. So, when he came out, towel draped over his head, still doing his shirt up and toothbrush unceremoniously being held in his mouth, he was a little surprised to run into Malcolm.]
Mmph. Mawnin... [this was the point where he had finished doing up his shirt, so could yank the toothbrush out of his mouth to correct himself.] Morning.
8:00 AM - After breakfastf_ckitybyeApril 28 2010, 18:27:30 UTC
[Malc's not much of a breakfast eater. Coffee and a muffin or bagel and he's good. He's eating an apple as he leaves the dining hall at a brisk clip that belies the fact that he actually has not got anywhere in particular to go.]
Re: 8:00 AM - After breakfastgray_atonementMay 1 2010, 20:41:34 UTC
[Sylar catches sight of Malcolm while on short break of his breakfast shift, strolling over toward him. He raises an eyebrow at the apple but doesn't remark on it, then offers a smile. It's one of the few times of day that he is actually in a good mood.] "You eat too fast. Breakfast should be enjoyed. Did you have any pancakes?"
11:00 AM - The libraryf_ckitybyeApril 28 2010, 18:29:33 UTC
[Malcolm's been in the library for a while with his laptop, reading any posts and communiques that went up publicly overnight, responding to posts, and occasionally trying, with no success, to get some kind of news from his home world. His Blackberry lies on the table next to him.]
2:45 PM - The deckf_ckitybyeApril 28 2010, 18:30:50 UTC
[It's time for an afternoon walk to loosen up a bit. Not that Malcolm has ever been much for "walks" unless he had to get out of Downing Street before he committed homicide-but it's not as if he has much else to do. Every now and then he takes out his Blackberry and prods it. Oh, and he forgot to eat lunch. Again.]
2:45 PM - The deck - o hai bb :>doeswhatidoApril 28 2010, 19:07:07 UTC
[[The operative's out on the deck as well, just with his back turned to Malcolm. He hears the other man's footsteps, of course, and turns as soon as he's within talking range.
But he doesn't talk, he just looks at him. For a moment, anyway. He'd been lost in his thoughts about baaaawwww good-bye, 11-12.]
2:45 PM - The deck - 8DbdoeswhatidoApril 28 2010, 19:43:35 UTC
No, no, not at all.
[[He recognizes that voice but doesn't say anything right off the bat, leaning back against the guardrail and gripping it tightly. Don't try anything, Fucking Malcom Fucking Tucker.]]
5:00 PM - Almost Kitchen Nightmares timef_ckitybyeApril 28 2010, 18:32:40 UTC
[On his arrival in the kitchen, Malcolm follows the same procedure with ritual precision: remove jacket and tie and put them on a hanger, roll up sleeves, and don a full-length apron. And with that he dives into the prep work for the night's shift.]
5:00 PM - Almost Kitchen Nightmares timetalldarksaviourApril 28 2010, 19:45:37 UTC
[Damon pushes open the doors, strolls in and snags an apron from a hook on the wall, slipping it over his head and tying it around his waist. Once it's on he walks over to the sink and starts washing his hands.]
[He walks over to the counter next to Malcolm and grabs a couple of onions as well.]
So, have you given any thought to our... conversation? [He pitches his voice just loud enough to be heard. Inaudible to the anyone else working in the kitchens.]
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Mmph. Mawnin... [this was the point where he had finished doing up his shirt, so could yank the toothbrush out of his mouth to correct himself.] Morning.
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Ow. Fuck.
[As he inspects the tiny cut:] Almost fucking understood you better with the fucking toothbrush.
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Not fucking apologising for the accent. And you've got some fucking room to talk.
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A pause. "Have you spoken to Tim?"
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It was fucking lying here when I got here.
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But he doesn't talk, he just looks at him. For a moment, anyway. He'd been lost in his thoughts about baaaawwww good-bye, 11-12.]
There's generally not many people up here.
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Not interrupting, am I?
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[[He recognizes that voice but doesn't say anything right off the bat, leaning back against the guardrail and gripping it tightly. Don't try anything, Fucking Malcom Fucking Tucker.]]
Malcolm Tucker, yeah? We've spoken before; 47.
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And what delicacies are we serving this evening?
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Spaghetti with marinara or meat sauce. I'm on the marinara.
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[He walks over to the counter next to Malcolm and grabs a couple of onions as well.]
So, have you given any thought to our... conversation? [He pitches his voice just loud enough to be heard. Inaudible to the anyone else working in the kitchens.]
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