the_gene_genie | OOM: CID on the Town

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OOM: CID on the Town

It's not that often they have the whole weekend off. Someone must be smiling down at them though because it's happened - for Gene, that means the match at Maine Road (and City pull off a frankly magnificent win against the poncey Londoners), home for the wife's dinner and then the pub, where he knows he'll be met by his team for a big night.

He knows this, because he told them so the night before, stalking out of his office at six to bellow;

'Weekend off, you lot! You know what that means. Railway Arms, half six tomorrow and raid your piggy banks. Any of you fairies cry off, I'll have you cleanin' the cells all of next week, got it?'

There had been mutterings of 'Yes, Guv' from all around the room and none of them had seemed reluctant - not even Tyler, really - so he knows it'll be a good 'un. It was slightly confusing to find a note in his pocket, in his own handwriting, informing him that he's got a bet on with Sam but that sort of thing has been happening more and more recently, so he's getting used to it, even if he still doesn't understand it. It generally works out in the end though.

So, when he stalks into the Railway Arms (ten minutes late, so they'll all be there and waiting) he doesn't even look around before hailing the room in general.

'Who's got me pint in, then?'

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"Right 'ere, Guv."

Ray stands from the usual table, a lit fag in his left hand and a pint of bitter in the right. Nelson's already watching but Ray still nods to call his attention.

Pint of bitter, whiskey chaser, and a glance over his shoulder at the rest of the table.

Game on, lads.

"Cheers," says Sam, from his position by the bar. It's a great place to lean without sitting down. Plus all the bonhomie over by the lads can be a little much to take.

Plus he had to buy his own pint. It gets a man down, that does.

'Nice one, Raymondo.'

He claps him on the shoulder and heads to the bar to pick his drinks up, nodding at Sam as he pulls up next to him.

'Cheers, Nelson. Right then,' he turns to Sam and holds his hand out, 'I understand we 'ave a bet on. Twenty quid. I'll give it t'Ray to hang on to.'

He's obviously taking this seriously. He has a perfectly crisp, clean shirt on that he had the wife iron especially. And he wasn't reluctant with the old Blue Stratos either. Might have even brushed his hair and cleaned his teeth.

'Ray! C'mere.'

"Aye, Guv?"

Ray comes up on his other side and rests an elbow on the bar. Sam gets a brief look, but little more than that.

"Twenty quid," Sam confirms, handing over the money.

"This I've got to see."

'Oh, you're openly doubtin' my legendary prowess now, are ya?'

He scowls and yanks two tenners out of his pocket, adds them to Sam's and claps the lot into Ray's hand.

'Hang on to that for us, Raymondo. Me an' the Boy Wonder here have a little wager on tonight's activites. I reckon I can pull five tarts before he gets off with one, given that he's so picky an' all.'

He puffs his chest out, pout firmly in place.

'If you had money on it, Ray, who'd you be backin'?'

He frowns at the lolly in his palm, then takes turns with the Guv and Tyler.

"You're jokin' right?"

He scoffs.

"No contest there. No way a nancy boy like 'im will pull one by mornin', unless he's payin' for it."

"None of that," Sam scoffs, shaking his head. As if clean cut and sensitive is a stumbling block in the road to winning a lady's affections, momentary or otherwise.

Sam Tyler begs to differ.

"Watch and learn, Sergeant. Watch and learn."

Edited 2011-02-06 01:08 (UTC)

Gene lets out a 'pfft' sound and exchanges a glance with Ray.

'You been tryin' hard enough with Cartwright an' that hasn' got you anywhere.'

He doesn't actually know whether Sam has been trying. He just sees them talking a fair bit and assumes that must be what's going on. What other reason is there for hanging around a bird all the time?

A thought occurs and he smirks at Ray.

'You know any of her bird mates, Raymondo? Any of 'em that'd give you her number? We should ask her along; I'm sure she'd like t'see this.'

Ray takes lessons from only one bloke here, and it's never going to be you, Tyler. Especially not in a case such as this.

He'd say as much, but figures the smirk says more than enough.

"Aye, a few. Couple plonks no doubt who'd fancy a ring from yours truly."

He pointedly puffs on his ciggy.

"Annie and I are friends," Sam says. "Challenging as that may be for you lot to understand."

Honestly, sometimes the past really is a foreign country.

"Anyway. Shall we get going?"

It's entirely possible that if things get moving right now, everyone will forget about calling round to Annie and her girlfriends.

A man can dream, anyway.

'Haven' finished me pint, yet.'

He is absolutely not going to forget about calling Annie and her mates, though he's rueful over the fact that he has scruples about pulling officers that junior. If he didn't, he reckons he could be collecting the bet winnings within an hour and a half. But he does, so.

Ray gets a nudge though.

'Friends with a bird. There's a name for blokes like that, ain' there?'

"Yeah, Guv."

Ray rolls his cig between his fingers slowly, keeping his eyes on Tyler.

"Poof."

"And here I was, thinking it was 'adult'."

There's his hopes, dashed on the floor.

Or not, as the case may be.

'Bloody 'ell Tyler, how is it that you're younger than both of us but you still manage t'sound like you're our dad or somethin'?'

Honestly, this bloke needs the stick removed from his arse, pronto. And what better way than to shake things up a bit?

'Go get Cartwright's number, Ray. If your plonks won' give it to you, call Phyllis. She's on duty. Get someone to make it clear to her that her presence is required here, by me. An' get her t'bring her mates.'

"Right."

Ray stubs out his fag and straightens, pulling the serious detective act. Here's where he shows you why he made Detective Sergent, Tyler. Perhaps you should watch and learn.

"I'm on it."

Sam grimly downs the rest of his pint.

This is shaping up to be a long, awkward night.

Bloody hell.

Ray would never, ever take giddy satisfaction in such sentiments, so feel free to ignore the triumphant laugh and slap on the shoulder when he returns.

"Get your coats, lads!"

It's nothing but the best for tonight's entertainment. Ray knows someone at this club (not to mention almost all the dancers). Inside is everything the Guv had hoped for -- music, dancing, women, booze. Their stakes are safely tucked away in Ray's pocket, as they wait for the wildcard entertainment of the night to show.

To say the phone call was expected would be a bit of a lie (although hearing Phyllis relay a message that had obviously come in from the Guv in her clipped tone provided a few laughs). A few more calls of her own and she was setting off for the address Phyllis had given her with a couple of the girls, trying not to feel too optimistic about the prospect of maybe seeing Sam there, too.

She doesn't feel nearly as awkward about the dress she's chosen to wear the minute they step inside the club - she blends in almost too well, here, and immediately starts scanning the crowds for a familiar tan overcoat.

Sam can feel a headache coming on. Whether it's from the close quarters, the loud music, or the increasing tension at the thought that Annie and her girlfriends are going to be witnesses to tonight's absolute mess is a question yet to be answered.

He can't quite help smiling when he catches sight of Annie, though. He just keeps mum about it, waiting until she notices him in return.

No sense adding more fuel for the lads to hone in on, right?

'Here y'are then, lads! Pints an' chasers.'

Never let it be said the Guv doesn't get his round in.

''ey up boys, the totty's here. Try not t'make any of 'em want to resign, Raymondo. As for me,' he claps his hands together, rubs them and grins, 'reckon I'm in with one o'them Jock slags at the bar. See ya inna bit.'

He turns tail and heads back towards a couple of extremely pissed girls in tight clothes, tag in one hand and Scotch in the other.

"Cheers, Guv!"

He shoots a sidelong look at Tyler and snickers. Bloody pathetic. He doesn't even stand a chance.

"All right, Tyler," he says, slapping his back jocularly; "let the schoolin' begin, shall we?"

He stands, and Annie gets a quick hello before he moves on to chripsing with the other girls.

She, in turn, gives Sam a somewhat helpless look, and leans close in order to be better heard.

"Well, then," Annie says, "what's all this about, now?"

Over the phone, Phyllis's explanation had only been so enlightening.

Sam briefly has the look of a man resigned to his own death. Or disembowelment.

"I've got a bet on, with the Guv."

Maybe she'll let him leave it there?

Gene has offered the girls fags, which they took, and bought drinks and spent a couple of minutes deciding which one to go for the kill with. They both seem pretty easy and neither are anything to write home about in the looks department but stuff it, he's got a bet to win.

The brunette leans in and says something which he can barely hear, but he catches the word 'dance' and nods, holding his Scotch out to the other one.

'Hang on t'that, sweet'eart...' his victim is turning towards the dance floor, so he adds, with a wink, '...if you're lucky, it'll be your turn next.'

It probably says something about the caliber of girl that she doesn't seem to mind. He follows his prey, and looks around for Sam; catching his eye he licks his finger and marks 'one' in the air, with a grin.

He bloody hopes Cartwright saw it as well. And Ray gets a nudge as he passes.

'Might as well 'and me the cash now, mate.'

Ray's a bit preoccupied.

"So there I was, righ' out on Canal Street, when I see this daftie off his tits, one foot on the pavement, one foot in the gutter--"

"Isn't Canal Street in the middle of the gay village?"

Ray's positioned himself by the obligatory staircase, one foot propped on a step as he chats up two birds at once.

"Wha'? No."

"I think it is, Clara!"

"Now, 'old on! I'm tellin' the story!"

She may only be a WPC, but she can put two and two together - or, at least, decipher what the Guv's signal undoubtedly means.

She gives Sam a knowing look.

"Just a bet, then?"

"Yes."

Well. Sort of.

"I've got my own stakes. Though I'm hoping the Guv'll get smacked before he manages to pull."

Well, to pull five, at least.

He may well get smacked. But it won't be by this one, seeing as she's all over him. He's pretty positive that she'd be that way with anything in trousers but that doesn't matter, he's only got to snog her once.

Added bonus, he doesn't have to bother about actual dancing when some slapper's throwing herself at him. Still, looking at her under these lights, she's definitely got a face like a slapped arse so he gets the job done as quick as possible and then turns her in the direction of some other poor sod. He was right, she immediately starts trying it on with the bastard but that's not his problem.

One down. Time to pick up his drink and find the next. Oh, and maybe do the polite thing and go say hello to Cartwright as well.

If she happens to be next to Sam at the time, so much the better.

Clara presses on:

"Are you down often then?"

"Oi, it's not like tha'!" Ray insists. Cheeky bint!

"I saw a sign once," interjects her friend; "it'd been defaced t' read 'Anal Street'."

The women laugh, but Ray is distinctly unamused.

It's interactions like these that make Annie long for a drink of her own right about now.

Instead, she offers Hunt a thin-lipped smile and a quick acknowledging nod when he inevitably approaches, decisively un-smacked.

"Doesn't look that way," she mutters out of the corner of her mouth, just loud enough for Sam to overhear.

Sam tries not to look defeated.

Or pained.

"No. No, you're right. It really doesn't."

Bloody hell.

"So. You're lookin' to have a nice time tonight, I suppose?"

It's not like he's really deflecting. Much.

'Alrigh' there, petal? Got the message then.'

Un-smacked and smug as hell.

''asn't he even got you a drink in? Bloody 'ell Tyler, this is why you can' pull anythin' but your own puddin'. Have some bleedin' manners.'

Also, fairly pissed. And looking around for the closest member of CID who isn't Sam (who needs to be smugged at some more).

'Oi, Vince. Get th'...Vince! Go get th' plonks some drinks. Shift yourself!'

He turns back to Annie and shoves a fag in his mouth.

'There y'are, luv. Sorted. As for you, Sammy-boy,' he cackles a laugh and claps him hard on the shoulder, 'bet you're wishin' you never doubted th' Gene Genie, eh?'

Ray's attention turns back to the CID gathering soon as the Guv raises his voice. The dozy birds have gone off yammering at each other, and he's lost interest. Not to mention had his ego bruised a bit, but no one saw that, right?

"Cartwright. Enjoyin' y'self? Tyler keepin' you rapt?"

He stands just shy of the table, chewing on a piece of gum like he's tearing into a piece of tough meat.

"Nice as can be managed," she adds quickly, seconds before the Guv approaches - soon to be followed by Ray.

"Well, it's no tale of Canal Street," Annie quips, "but I've been entirely entertained."

Sam'd smirk at Ray except for two things. One, there's very little point, actually, considering where the night is headed.

And two, Sam is not that petty.

He bears up under the hearty shoulder-clap from the Guv, expression flicking over into resigned.

Some of it is deliberate, at least.

"That's not the only thing I'm wishing, Hunt."

Not having gotten up this morning is actually at the forefront of his thoughts, right now.

The smile he gives Annie is somewhat pained. It's only going to get worse.

'I know it, Tyler! You're wishin' you possessed even half of my wit an' charm, for a start.'

In Gene's defence, he's sort of taking the piss out of himself a bit here. It's just that he's also sort of not, and no one really knows the difference anyway.

'An' Raymondo, if you go down Canal Street on your own again, I'm goin' t'have serious doubts abou' you. Mind you, it'd mean you could sort out all the queer crimes so none of us 'ad to go down there again.'

Bonus!

His smile disappears the instant Annie's mouth starts moving. He looks over at Tyler, either because he's a glutton for punishment, or (more likely) because it's easier letting him have it than talking back to the Guv. But Tyler isn't taking the bait. Bastard.

"Misunderstandin'," is what he says. "End of."

Annie doesn't say anything - not so much in words, at least.

Her eyes, on the other hand, say it all; she ducks her head shortly after her gaze meets Sam's, hiding a quick, knowing smirk behind a few strands of wavy hair.

"'Course," she finally murmurs.

"Cheers," Sam says, holding up his own drink.

Right now it's the best he can do.

Plus it helps hide the return smirk when he looks at Annie.

Helps hide it. Doesn't manage it completely, and Gene's lips purse. Smarmy bugger.

'Righ' then! I'm goin' t'treat some tarts. You can jus' stay here an' discuss procedure or psychology or somethin' with your little friend, Sammy-boy. An' it's your round next.'

He turns his back on Sam and Annie and claps a hand on Ray's shoulder.

'Raymondo. See them two over there?'

He points at a couple of girls loitering by the door of the Ladies.

'Distract th' blonde, will ya? I wan' her mate. I'll get you a drink outta my winnin's.'

Ray is slowly, slowly shaking his head at you, Tyler. Because you're a girl.

"I see them, Guv."

He pulls a face. The blonde has a face like a horse, including the teeth.

And the bangs.

And he has a bad feeling those are hooves.

"Too right, I'll need a drink after tha'."

And a fortifying cigarette! But this is for the Guv, and besides, Tyler stands to look like an idiot, which is incentive enough. He sucks in a breath and sets off to make a bird's day.

She waits until the both of them are out of earshot before turning back to Sam.

"I'm not a very good consolation prize," she says, though she's mostly teasing while her gaze tracks Ray's movement over to the blonde with the fringe.

"You've got that right, love."

Sam holds his silence for a second, but then his mouth quirks in a slight smile.

"I wouldn't call you consolation anything."

It's not meant to be a chat-up line, as such.

Gene stalks over to the dark-haired one, a smile painted on. He gets a cool sort of look in return but that's alright. If she proves too much work he'll just move on to the next.

'Alrigh' there, swee'heart? Get you a drink?'

'S'pose so.'

Christ, she's a Scouser. Bad move. Still, they're pretty much all slags so he'll give it five minutes, see where it goes.

Ray's used to being the only true lady's man in the room -- Tyler obviously isn't giving him any competition -- but he's hoping the Guv is having more luck than he is.

"...fancy? 'Angonamo, I'd like dat. Dis ruv is lack'n in proper blokes ter rabbit ter, dya know warra mean tho?"

Ray stares at her.

What the bloody hell did she just say?

Sam is in no way laughing at Ray's perplexed expression.

He's not smirking, either. Not this bloke.

Annie has his full and complete attention.

Well, Annie and his pint.

(And Ray's perplexed expression.)

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OOM: CID on the Town

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