realityshifted | (no subject)

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life on mars (d1) gene hunt

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[hello, Astral Plane. have a Gene Hunt. a very unhappy Gene Hunt. and he's every right to be, really! one of the scumbag child molesters he put away about six years ago is out on parole and there's whispers on the streets, but nothing even he can justify sending people out for. it's put him in quite the mood.

he's also rather peeved he's got a Cheetah person following him around, but let's not get into that

so! anyone who's interested? the Guv is currently sitting at the bar, which has been miraculously restocked since exploding, nursing a pint of bitter. because it's what he does]

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I don't wanna lead around a bunch of bloody cats, you div.

[a laugh] Neither do I, Mr. Hunt. But if you want to keep your life relatively cat free, convincing him to kill me is not in your best interest.

You're right. You just come back, anyway. [sighs and takes another drink] How am I supposed to know he isn't gonna off one of my people when he's off doing shit for me, though?

Give him the orders not to touch them. [the Master sets his glass down] For being cats, they are very obedient - and if something were to happen, you'd have at least an hour to stop it. They like playing with their kills first and they do take their time.

[a pause, then light tapping on the bar] If you're that worried, I believe I could get something set up to prevent him from touching any of your people.

That better work, or I'm sending him after you anyway.

[he doesn't trust you, Master] And how are you gonna do that?

[a smirk] I can set a hypnotic suggestion in his head- one to avoid getting close to humans other than yourself. If that fails, I'm certain I can get something from someone to keep him in line.

I don't trust you and that head crap. How am I supposed to know you aren't doing the opposite?

Care to oversee it, Mr. Hunt?

I can't see what you're doing inside his head you git.

I'd be speaking. It's easier that way.

Fine. I'll watch. But if you try any funny business, I'll break your legs.

[picks up his glass and finishes it] I figured you might, and believe me, I've no intention on sending Russ on a rampage.

Would mess up your plans a bit, wouldn't it?

That it would. [the Master chuckles and pours himself another drink] I think if it wouldn't result in a loss of life, you'd encourage it just to spite me.

[snorts] You've got that right, at least.

I take pride in being able to read people.

Surprised you can take pride in anything, being a queer and all.

[drinks] Mr. Hunt, is there a particular reason you always seem to direct our conversations - at least once - towards my sexual preference, or are you just utterly oblivious to the words that come out of your mouth? [which is most likely, considering those times where Gene was flirting or being a tease without noticing...]

[this is Gene, giving you a blank look, because yeah] I just call 'em like I see 'em, Frenchie.

Yes, in every single conversation we have. Can't wrap your mind around the concept?

I call you a Frenchie bastard in every one, too, but you don't seem to get your knickers in a twist about that.

[a brief shrug] Yes, but those don't tell much about your psyche; though it does say you couldn't identify a French accent if you heard one.

It's not your accent, you idiot. It's your bloody poofter beard.

[dryly] Your logic and reasoning astounds me.

You say that like it's a bad thing.

[ooc; Woman, what are you doing up so early?]