realityshifted | (no subject)

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life on mars (d1) sam tyler

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[sets down various weapons as stolen from Minato's under-the-bed armory. It is worth noting that he's chosen to relax at the bar, and that there is an opened bottle of whisky on the counter]

House fire in Kingston upon Hull, six-year-old boy dead. It's considered an accident.

Ethics in altering the past you know as a fact while back in time: discuss.

[drinks from his glass of whisky]

Or don't.

[and another drink!]

A word, Guv.

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Being a copper isn't about written laws or following any bloody rules. It's about your gut, and instinct, and wanting what's best for the people who can't protect themselves. 's not about accountability and brutality and ruddy paperwork.

[gives you a funny look, Sam] What d'ya mean, new uniforms?

I'll give you that it's about protecting people, but the rest... [shakes his head]

They... they changed uniform's uniforms. And I don't like them. I do like the standardized use of body armour we have now, but the high-visibility jackets... [sips from his drink]

The rest means nothing in the long run. That's all.

[snorts] So they gave your coppers protective gear and then made 'em as obvious as a nun in a whorehouse?

There are some brothels where that nun would fit in.

None you've ever visited.

[smirks slightly into his drink] 'course not, Guv. Straightlaced Sam Tyler'd never do anything like that, would he?

More like no bird would ever want you to. [he says it good naturedly, though, honest]

Prostitutes rarely, if ever, 'desire' their customers. ['You idiot.' Which is, of course, also meant good naturedly]

Point. Don't much desire them, myself. Then again, not all of us need to buy our skirts. [friendly jab to the side]

[he, dare I say it, giggles] What colour skirts do you buy, Guv? Pink and rainbow?

[...have a slap to the skull, Tyler] Don't get mouthy with me, Dorothy. [and then he laughs]

You leave yourself open for it, Guv.

And you knew what I meant, so don't try that, Gladys.

I could graph an equation depicting the relationship between what you called me and what mood you're directing at me. Actually, it'd have to be a program. Could probably do it in Turing.

If 'Gladys' then

...Actually, 's a bit complicated for Turing. Maybe C++?

...or you could make some bloody sense instead of spouting gibberish. This isn't 'Hyde,' Tyler. And even if it were, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't know what the hell you're talking about.

They're programming languages. For computers.

The hell does a computer need language for? 's just a stupid machine.

Which runs on a language.

More like runs on the power of my fist pounding it repeatedly.

[snorts] Well done, Kong. Would you please climb down from the Empire State Building now?

[hmphs] Soon as you tell me how you can be friends with the beast, Ann.

I don't know that they write 'How-To's for that.

Don't get smart with me. You say I'm either dead or dying in 'Hyde.' So why bother with me here? You've got that whole world you think means so much, what's the point in establishing anything here? Or do you like mucking about with our lives?