realityshifted | (no subject)

Entry tags:

life on mars (d1) gene hunt

(no subject)

[today, Plane-goers, is a special day! for you see, today we have sighted the elusive 'Guv' in his natural habitat: the pub. or as natural as a pub comes on the Plane, meaning he's at the Astral Bar. because really, when isn't he. but today is different, because the Guv isn't drinking, though he sourly wishes he were. no, today, this terrifying animal has in front of him actual, honest-to-god paperwork

you see, Plane-goers, on occasion, the Guv will stop being boorish and actually look at casework. the reasons behind this unusual behaviour differ, but for today, that reason is nightmares, and what better way to soothe a distraught mind than with pointless, nancy paperwork?

yeah, that's what the Guv thinks, too]

Bloody hell.

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[absently, as she grabs two glasses] Did hear enough, when I was a senator.

Senator? You? [pffft]

One term. [sets one glass aside as she starts to fill the other] Travelled the world. [wry glance] It was easier then.

So what happened?

[for a moment, she doesn't speak, just concentrating on the pouring liquid; then, casually] I opened my door and got shot in the spine.

[that's not a way to go, really. not a way to have to give up everything and Gene just grunts in acknowledgment] Bastard get what was comin' to him?

For a while. [switches to the other glass] He has a nasty habit of escaping.

[another glance, a wry smirk] Which I knew, of course, all the times I put him away already.

Bloke like that, he doesn't deserve second chances. He shouldn't have the opportunity to get out at all.

[finishes pouring, and slides him his drink with a hard, worn smile] Not the way we do things, generally. [but she doesn't say she disagrees]

Don't make a habit of offing the bastards, myself. [takes the drink with a nod] Doesn't mean a few of 'em don't deserve it.

[quietly, as she stares at her drink] I really do wish they'd done it. Wouldn't help me, but Jason...

[he's just ... gonna keep listening, sine he hates when people trail off]

[her fingers drum against the bar for a moment, before she speaks again, her voice low and dark] He was seventeen years old. The Joker beat him half to death with a crowbar, and then blew up the warehouse he was in.

[...not cool, Joker] Scum like that don't deserve to keep living.

[seriously] Usually? I'd say we don't get to make that choice. But if I'm ever in the same room with him - [just...sips her bourbon]

I'd hold him down for you, luv.

I appreciate it. [flashes him a sharp smile] Wouldn't need it, though.

[openly looks her over] Not so sure about that, red.

[smirks] I don't need legs to kick someone's ass.

[and he grins] Good girl.

[raises her glass] Cheers, officer.

[does the same] Cheers.

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