realityshifted | (no subject)

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life on mars (d1) sam tyler

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[sitting at a desk in the middle of the Astral Plane, working on his paperwork like a good little nancy boy. And, like a good little nancy boy, he's listening to a broadway musical. On the glasses Fumie gave him, to be specific.

In fact, he's singing along to one. Yes indeed, Sam's singing "If You Were Gay."]

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[half questioning, half a demand for elaboration] Guv?

[sits back, looking up at the ceiling] Somebody's gotta keep tabs on 'em, Tyler. Watch where they're going, make sure they don't get in anymore trouble. Regulate what they do, give 'em the idea they've got freedom, they've got the upper hand.

[stares at him] One, that sounds like nancy-boy surveillance. Two, what, exactly, are you suggesting? Because I'm not sure that I like it.

[gives Sam a meaningful look] Don't gotta be on the take to work with scum and keep 'em in line.

No. Next suggestion?

You don't tell me no, Tyler.

Funny, you saying that, seeing as I just did. Oh, and guess what? I can do a repeat performance! No. See? Did it again! I'm not hearing it. Next plan.

And I don't have to listen to it, now do I? I'm DCI, I'm sheriff, and if I think this is the best way to keep my City and my team safe, there's not a bloody thing you can do about it.

Sure I can - I can beat you over the head and lock you in one of the cells until reason and sense come back to you. [looks over Gene coldly] Go on, then, Guv. Go lay out your plan so I can point out the flaws while you go. Let's start with the big one, here: remember when you told me that you are the team? Well, if start getting self-sacrificial, you take the rest of us down with you. You're surprisingly important for a daft, lazy bastard.

You couldn't hit a bloke if he was unconscious on the floor, Gladys. Don't even start. [gives just as cold a look back] My job is to make sure my City and my team are safe, and I'll do whatever it takes to make it that way. I'm not sending anyone else in, I'm doing it myself. I can handle one poofter bloke while keeping the rest of you out of danger. And even if anything happens to me, CID's got you, so you can shove all your nancy ass gay boy arguments up your arse.

I'm not helping you with that farce of a plan. I'm not going to cover for you and I won't be filling the gap you'll leave.

You don't have much of a choice. You either do it or turn your back on your job.

[pushes away from the desk, standing, and looks at Gene levelly, for a long moment] I would. I can get a transfer for C Division, if that's the way it's going to be.

[narrows his eyes] You wouldn't. I wouldn't okay the transfer, anyway. Try again.

I'll go to Rathbone for permission, then. He doesn't like you and he doesn't like me, so I doubt he'd be hard to convince.

You're a right bloody coward, Tyler. The hell can't you see that this is the best solution?

Because I don't need glasses. --I shouldn't pun, should I? It's a bad plan, Guv. As your DI and as your friend I can't let you go through with it. And that's the end of it.

Can't kill 'em, can't nick 'em, can't keep tabs on 'em. What the bloody hell do you suggest we do, then, Tyler? Since you've got all the answers, why don't you tell me what we can do about it?

I.... I don't know. But it's not that. [sits back down and picks his pen up]

[watches him a moment, hands on the table, then sits back down himself, pulling out a cigarette and puffing away] Yeah, well. We'll see.

Yeah. [turns his attention once more towards paperwork, sifting through sheets and filling in/correcting information where necessary]

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