DCI Gene Hunt (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_gene_genie) wrote2010-09-28 06:32 pm
the_gene_genie) wrote2010-09-28 06:32 pm
OOM: Room 6620
He's never really been one for sitting alone with his thoughts - to be honest, there aren't that many occasions that call for it. He tends to be confident in his actions and decisions and give little mind to his failings or mistakes.
This mood that Saffron put him in though, is actually more normal. And he'd defy any copper to deny they felt the same way, at times. It's a thankless job they do and a never ending one as well. Everyone copes with it in different ways. Gene's way, tonight, is to drink and then drink some more, shifting around the room as various parts of his body complain from his recent excursions.
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"You know, I'd consider that once. Fun. But then I found out my boss was a right terror, who has no compunction about knocking on my door at all hours, and dragging me out of bed to help pull bodies out of the canal. And if he's not doing that, he's keeping me up all night going over financial records and filling flip chart after flip chart with known associations and snouts and odd relations who might owe him a favour or two."
"If you ask me, he's the one who works too hard." That is definitely a tease, as her Gene has many times been the one to bugger off to the pub before she did.
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'...soun's like a righ' twat.'
What the hell happens to him over the next few years? Because what she describes couldn't be further from his personality. Well...OK, he's woken Sam up in the night to pull bodies out of the canal because that's hardly his fault, he doesn't control what time they're discovered. But financial records?
'Wha's a 'flip chart' when it's at home?'
This may not be a serious question.
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And yes, her tone is obsidian sharp. Or at least as sharp as can be when she's this tipsy.
"He's -- just..." Better to answer the other question.
"It's a --" She waves a hand. "Paper. Large sheets of paper on a pad. For taking notes that the whole room can read."
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There are far more important matters to deal with though. He leans forward, giving her the sort of penetrating stare she should be very used to by now.
'Where's Sam?'
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The corner of her mouth twitches, and it's a sad smile that settles eventually.
"Sam got married."
It's not an answer. She knows it's not an answer. But she doesn't want this Gene to hate her, too. At least, not for things she has no control over. (Her name is Molly.)
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Oh. Well. That's perfectly acceptable.
'...that girl.'
Of course, it doesn't explain why he...or maybe it does. Maybe his wife doesn't want to move to London. Maybe...bloody hell, maybe Sam gets his job.
Nightmare. He doesn't want to think about it. And he's still staring at Alex that way.
'An' my wife?'
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She sighs, closes her eyes and rolls to her back again.
"You never talk about your wife."
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He sits back. He doesn't talk about his wife even now. Hardly ever. It's not what men do. So this is, actually, a reassuring answer. There's nothing in it to suggest she's not around, there's no hint that he's not married. It doesn't answer any questions either but it's certainly not bad news.
'Wan' another drink?'
He's perked up a bit now, hearing that. The future doesn't look quite so bizarre. He might even ask the bar to let him see what a flip chart looks like so he can properly understand what she was on about.
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And he hasn't once called her Bolly, or Bols, or Mrs. Woman. All the little things she usually thinks are annoying, and why the hell doesn't he just use her name? Well, today. She misses them.
When did her real name become Bollykecks? When did that happen?
How will she deal with that back in 2008? When everyone calls her Mum, or DI Drake, or that poncy little sneer that Evan can wrap around her first name, like he could apologise for all his transgressions and still be her father figure in the same breath. She closes her eyes even tighter, trying to remember the sound of his voice calling her from his office, demanding she drop whatever it was she was doing and attend him right this instant. 'Bolly!' When did that become so -- important to her?
She doesn't even notice how hard she's biting her lower lip.
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'...if you're gonna chuck, bog's that way.'
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"Always the charmer you are."
She still doesn't look at him.
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He pours himself another drink and lights up another fag. A Players, not the Panatellas she'll be used to. They might even smell better.
'Cheer up. We've got booze.'
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She does sit up and get her glass, holding it out to him. Okay, letting it drift down to the bed where she can get a grip on it before it drifts away entirely.
"You call me 'Bolly.'"
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He's possibly even more direct in this timeline than later on. If that is possible.
He does pour her a drink, though.
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"'S a nickname. From the first time you saw me. I was undercover. You thought I was a prozzie. You called me Bollinger Knickers."
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He thinks on it a beat.
'...yeah, soun's like the sort of thing I'd say. What were you doin' undercover as a prozzie?'
Another beat.
'An' what were you wearin'?'
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She drinks, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
"Red."
She'll just leave it at that.
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'Tarty, was it? Somethin' skimpy?'
He's looking at her lasciviously, of course. Far less subtle than the Gene she knows and it's hardly like he's the most reserved of blokes.
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"You said -- something like -- 'Blimey. 'At skirt was 'itched any 'igher, I could see what you 'ad for breakfast.'"
When she's drunk, she's much better at approximating his accent.
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'Well, tha' gives me somethin' t'look forward to. Is it 1981 yet?'
He's not about to attempt her accent, we're thankful to report.
'Unless you wan' t'recreate th' scene for me now.'
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Yeah, she's a classy bird all right.
She sets the empty glass on the bed, coughing a bit, melting back to the mattress.
"Jus' gonna have a kip, 'right?"
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He turns his chair around so it's facing the - by his standards - incredibly modern TV (It's from the 80s and has a VHS machine that took him about an hour to figure out). High Noon is in there already and good to go because that's what he'd decided to do before she turned up.
'Bu' if you snore over this film, I'm chuckin' you straight out on yer ear.'
He's not kidding.
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She's already out like a light.