Canon is George Gently. Voice testing this Geordie accent.

[nothalfasgently]

If you've got it in that pretty little head to order us around, you've got another thing comin'. You're not me guv, and you aren't me wife. The wife isn't even me wife anymore, is she? No then.

So. No need to play this hard. Let's have a pint and discuss these "travel arrangements". Because if you'd like to send us to London, me bags are packed. Otherwise, I don't much care for going anyplace.

And you've lost us too, pet. Now what's a Sam-Tyler-dad-face supposed to be?

Comments

HI JOHN BACCHUS /so excited to see him

[captjacksparrow]

There's other places to be wanting to travel other than London, mate. In the tropics, a man can get some sun.

S'up Captain Jack? Got your wine jokes ready?

[nothalfasgently]

I've been to the beach. Nothing but dirt and rocks, innit? Get enough of that at home.

Besides, I don't suspect that's what this bird has in mind.

eeeee a john bacchus

[yfeltihtend]

[Well, how very... interesting; this one looks like someone he knows.]

I do believe she's referring to the rather intriguing tendency of the multiverse to spit out doppelgängers, of a sort. Can be unnerving, if you're not used to it.

But I shouldn't worry about it; that sort of thing rarely gets beyond the metaphysical, and you seem an eminently practical sort of man.

Well now I no longer feel like the only person who watches 'Gently'.

[nothalfasgently]

Right. See: I haven't got me dictionary, mate, so it'd be appreciated if you'd tell us what those things are when they're at home.

[yfeltihtend]

[A tiny, private smile. Eminently practical, he was right. Not that he's amused at your expense, absolutely not, and it soon turns self-deprecating and apologetic.]

Ah, of course; your pardon. Hazard of academia, I'm afraid; one forgets not talk like a treatise. Doubles, you might say, in plain English. Whoever this Mr. Tyler is, his father must be the spit of you.

[nothalfasgently]

Professor, are you?

[John knows what you sorts get paid now, and he's not exactly happy about it.]

Lot of blokes have got this hair cut.

[He smooths his hair vainly.]

[yfeltihtend]

Museum curator, most recently, actually. But I'm something of a... jack of all trades, you might say.

[Which is to say, he's a time-travelling necromancer from the court of Elizabeth I. But that puts people off. He smiles indulgently at John's vanity.]

Mm, not quite. Stylish though it undoubtedly is. When I say doubles, I do mean quite literally. Like looking in the mirror.

[nothalfasgently]

Don't think I would say that. Isn't usually a compliment in the end, is it? Usually goes along with a fellow hasn't done an honest day's work in his life.

[And John flashes a cheeky grin that says but of course, I don't mean youuuuuuuuuuuu.]

What's the good of that, then?

[yfeltihtend]

[Dr. Unthank does not think you are half as clever as you seem to think you are. But he's more amused by it than anything else, and will give John a delicate lift of one eyebrow.]

The good of it?

[Pray do elaborate.]

[nothalfasgently]

[That's John's trouble though, isn't it? He's not half as clever. Or at least: he's not half as thoughtful as he ought to be.]

If I was going to go around looking like some other bloke, I'd be sure and look like a millionaire, mate.

[yfeltihtend]

[That gets a chuckle. See? He is totally just a harmless, genial, tweedy Scotsman. That is all he is.]

Wouldn't we all? But it's not a question of wanting; merely another one of the universe's peculiarities.

[One which, as a man who makes it his business to acquire knowledge of the arcane and obscure, he intends to learn more about-- or at least learn how he can bend it to his advantage.]

As I understand it, it can happen to anyone; I once met one of my own; uncanny resemblance. Although he was less-- [he twiddles a few fingers in the general direction of his face.]-- gingery.

[nothalfasgently]

That must've been a laugh. You two get on? It'd be a shame to have to knock your own teeth in.

[Which is to say that John could see John doing that, maybe.]

[yfeltihtend]

[Another chuckle.]

Oh, as well as any two people. He seemed a sharp sort, if nothing else; excellent taste in suits.

[nothalfasgently]

He have your name as well as your face?

[yfeltihtend]

Well, if that were the case, I would have just said I'd met myself. No; a different name, different accent, different... occupation. Different person entirely.

[nothalfasgently]

You keep in touch?

I might. Keep an eye on him, I suppose.

[yfeltihtend]

That's very suspicious of you.

[nothalfasgently]

I'm a copper.

And I wouldn't like someone else giving us a reputation. I do well enough on me own.

[yfeltihtend]

Ah, that would explain it.

[A reputation, mm? Goodness.]

The sort of man who easily acquires a reputation, are you, ah-- I don't believe you gave your name.

[nothalfasgently]

[You know: for smacking suspects around. For mouthing off. For getting people's daughters up the duff. The usual.]

Bacchus. Detective Sergeant. And yourself?

[yfeltihtend]

Niall Mortimer. Doctor. A pleasure, Sergeant Bacchus, I'm sure.

[That is, of course, not actually his name, but he doesn't go by his real name anywhere other than his native time and place, where it has significant influence.]

Where is it exactly your writer has designs on sending you, incidentally?

[nothalfasgently]

She's still poking around for someplace. Plays another copper at some boat or summat, so she can't send us there. There's no rehabilitatin' criminal sorts anyway.

They all sound like rubbish to me.

[Someone should tell John that there are sex islands out there. Not that I'm sending him to one; just to blow his mind a little.]

[yfeltihtend]

I don't generally make a habit of playing advertiser, but my writer is sending a criminal sort of her own to city_of_keys. Although I... can't say that I imagine such a place would be to your taste. Just a hunch.

But there certainly is a... wide variety of such places. I find them fascinating, if merely as an observer.

((OOC: Edited because I totally know the name of the comm I'm sending my own pup too. >_>))

[nothalfasgently]

And what's this criminal sort intend to do?

I just don't see why they've all got to be so mental. Here's a plan: I go to London; get a job with the Met. No sad Doctor Who cast-off sorts wandering around required.

[yfeltihtend]

She intends to survive, I expect, with a... friend of hers. And make herself as comfortable in that society as she can. Both admirable goals.

[And that will get a slow smile.]

I expect because when one has a puppet one can make dance, it's far better entertainment to have them put on a show than simply to sit idle. What else is the point of power? And it does make a far better story.

[nothalfasgently]

Depends how you go about it.

I'm nobody's puppet.

[yfeltihtend]

Merely metaphor, dear boy.