[Jeeves & Wooster] Fraglet: But Not a Drop to Drink
Of all the Fraglets there could have been a sequel to, you probably least wanted one to Maliciously.
But here it is anyway. Don't hit me. No, really. Don't hit me. Blame Bach. And monisharobot, but no hitting there either.
...I am not going to dignify this with a proper header. 400ish words of OW MY SOUL G-rated implied-Bertie/OFC.
But Not a Drop to Drink
JEEVES STOP EMERGENCY STOP COME BACK AT ONCE STOP AUNT A REALLY DONE IT THIS TIME STOP AM DOOMED STOP
JEEVES STOP DEAD SERIOUS HERE STOP ENGAGED TO HARRIDAN STOP HELP STOP
JEEVES STOP WHERE ARE YOU STOP DASH IT I NEED YOU STOP SPECIAL LICENCE STOP CERTAIN DOOM STOP NO WAY OUT STOP
DASH IT MAN WHERE DICKENS ARE YOU STOP DEEPEST IN SOUP STOP PRACTICALLY PRISONER OF AUNT A OR WOULD COME TO YOU STOP NO WAY OUT UNLESS YOU COME TO AID STOP
WHATEVER HAVE DONE AM DASHED SORRY STOP WILL GET RID OF GREEN SPATS STOP ONLY COME BACK STOP
TOO LATE STOP BUT NEVER MIND ME STOP FEAR WORST RE YOUR HEALTH STOP HOTEL NOT SEEN YOU STOP PLEASE PLEASE REPLY STOP PHONING POLICE NEXT STOP
The woman staring down at me looked neither familiar nor kindly disposed towards me. I attempted to sit up, to speak, and was immediately hit with an excruciating wave of pain.
"Did I forget to tell you? They said you shouldn't move." Her voice was cold and clear, and bore the marks of a wealthy upbringing, as did her clothing.
I moved only my eyes, and saw that I was in a hospital room. I remembered now: the rowboat, the rocks. I attempted to ask the lady who she was and what she knew of my condition, but all that emerged was a strangled grunt.
"Oh, you can't talk either, but it isn't permanent. You crushed your throat in the fall. Nothing else but a few cracked ribs. You were lucky." She moved to the stand in the corner of the room where a jug of water sat, I hoped to pour me a glass, but she only ran her fingers over the handle. A large diamond glinted in the sliver of sunlight admitted by the one high window. "I didn't mean to spend my honeymoon traipsing about after wayward servants," she said acidly, "and this ends here."
I took a sharp breath and groaned at the pain in my ribs, but had no time to consider any other action before a doctor entered.
The lady's entire demeanour changed. "No, I'm sorry," she said to him sorrowfully as she stepped through the door. "It isn't him. Thank you for your time, doctor."
"Not at all. Good luck, Mrs Wooster."
The pain that shot through me as the door closed behind them had little to do with my injuries.
But here it is anyway. Don't hit me. No, really. Don't hit me. Blame Bach. And monisharobot, but no hitting there either.
...I am not going to dignify this with a proper header. 400ish words of OW MY SOUL G-rated implied-Bertie/OFC.
But Not a Drop to Drink
JEEVES STOP EMERGENCY STOP COME BACK AT ONCE STOP AUNT A REALLY DONE IT THIS TIME STOP AM DOOMED STOP
JEEVES STOP DEAD SERIOUS HERE STOP ENGAGED TO HARRIDAN STOP HELP STOP
JEEVES STOP WHERE ARE YOU STOP DASH IT I NEED YOU STOP SPECIAL LICENCE STOP CERTAIN DOOM STOP NO WAY OUT STOP
DASH IT MAN WHERE DICKENS ARE YOU STOP DEEPEST IN SOUP STOP PRACTICALLY PRISONER OF AUNT A OR WOULD COME TO YOU STOP NO WAY OUT UNLESS YOU COME TO AID STOP
WHATEVER HAVE DONE AM DASHED SORRY STOP WILL GET RID OF GREEN SPATS STOP ONLY COME BACK STOP
TOO LATE STOP BUT NEVER MIND ME STOP FEAR WORST RE YOUR HEALTH STOP HOTEL NOT SEEN YOU STOP PLEASE PLEASE REPLY STOP PHONING POLICE NEXT STOP
The woman staring down at me looked neither familiar nor kindly disposed towards me. I attempted to sit up, to speak, and was immediately hit with an excruciating wave of pain.
"Did I forget to tell you? They said you shouldn't move." Her voice was cold and clear, and bore the marks of a wealthy upbringing, as did her clothing.
I moved only my eyes, and saw that I was in a hospital room. I remembered now: the rowboat, the rocks. I attempted to ask the lady who she was and what she knew of my condition, but all that emerged was a strangled grunt.
"Oh, you can't talk either, but it isn't permanent. You crushed your throat in the fall. Nothing else but a few cracked ribs. You were lucky." She moved to the stand in the corner of the room where a jug of water sat, I hoped to pour me a glass, but she only ran her fingers over the handle. A large diamond glinted in the sliver of sunlight admitted by the one high window. "I didn't mean to spend my honeymoon traipsing about after wayward servants," she said acidly, "and this ends here."
I took a sharp breath and groaned at the pain in my ribs, but had no time to consider any other action before a doctor entered.
The lady's entire demeanour changed. "No, I'm sorry," she said to him sorrowfully as she stepped through the door. "It isn't him. Thank you for your time, doctor."
"Not at all. Good luck, Mrs Wooster."
The pain that shot through me as the door closed behind them had little to do with my injuries.