realityshifted | (no subject)

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life on mars (d1) gene hunt

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[Gene Hunt is standing on the Astral Plane, a slip of paper in hand. if you asked him what it said, he'd not tell you (with the possible exception of Sam Tyler), but suffice to say his latest argument with the missus did not end on a happy note and she's carted off her stuff to a friend's. possibly indefinitely, though Gene adamantly denies even thinking that. as it is, however, he's pretty shaken from it and feeling rather lost]

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How mature of you. [claps] I'm devastated.

Blow it out your arse. [drinks, keeps walking]

Coward.

[okay, that? is the last straw, and Gene has just turned around and slammed you into a wall, Master, arm pinned to your throat, just heavy enough it's hard to breathe, not so much you'll suffocate] Now you listen here. I don't care if you're the Queen or the Pope or my Aunt Edna, no one calls me a coward, are we understood? This is my home and you don't waltzed in here acting the part of rooster, got it?

[growls as he's slammed against the wall, then sneers, speaks in a sort of strained way, due to Gene's pressure] Then stop running off. Gene Hunt, fleeing the problem standing in his own den.

[bares his teeth] I still don't intend on leaving, Mr. Hunt. Not until I have what I want.

I am not running, you piece of shit! [applies a little more pressure to emphasise the whole issue] And I don't give a granny's fart what you want, you aren't getting anything from me, now get the hell out!

[he snarls the word] No.

[doesn't let up] Last time we did this, I about cut your leg off. Now get out or I'll crush your bloody windpipe.

[barks a laugh] Then you'd be a murderer.

I'm defending my house from some thieving, murdering scum who broke in and tried killing me, first. It's all self-defense, Frenchie.

Except for the fact I didn't break in, nor did I lay a single hand upon you. Spin it however you like legally, it doesn't change the truth of the matter.

[swears and lets him go because yes, that's true, much as he hates to admit it. so instead he leans over to retrieve his drink] The hell do I have to do to get rid of you?

[rubs his neck] I already told you why I was here. Perhaps you could start with that, hm?

[gruffly] No.

Then you'll just have to deal with me until I think of something else I might want.

I'm not giving you anything, so you might as well just go. [gives him a pointed glare and turns to head back to the den, collapsing into a chair and turning on the radio]

As I've said before, I'm not going to.

[stubborn prat mode is a go]

[well Gene can do stubborn prat, too, so there. epic cold shoulder fight, go!]

[he'll just wait until you're sufficiently pissed, Gene~]

[which doesn't take too terribly long, really! he's finished the bottle, at any rate, and is now just staring at the wall and the pictures there, some Pink Floyd playing on the radio]

[and so the Master wanders over, but stays out of Gene's line of vision]

Feel like talking yet, Mr. Hunt?

[rolls his head to look at him] Piss off, Frenchie.

You know I'm not going to.

[the Master steps behind Gene and his chair, then moves into Gene's personal space. he inhales deeply for a moment - that scent of Gene's is growing fond on him - and then just purrs]

[what is with the creepy, damnit? Gene does not like this and shifts away, giving the Master a nasty look] Get the hell away from me you bleedin' faerie.

Mmm, no.

[he does straighten, though, and taps his fingers on the chair]

I think we may both be here for a long while, don't you agree?