Round Robin - Start
Jan. 19th, 2007 05:52 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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discoveredinaljThe crowd milled, mindless government employees chattered, drinks were supped. Feeling like a cross between a stuffed shirt and a spare groom at a wedding, Bodie worried at his bow tie and tossed a hopeful look at his partner. For two hours they'd suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous speeches, surely no one would miss them if they slipped out now. Duty done. They'd had plans for this evening, and none of them involved the brainless blondes from the Home Office that Doyle was busy chatting up.
Much to Bodie's annoyance, Doyle ignored him. That would never work. If he wanted to Doyle to himself - and the aforementioned plans had included just the two of them in Bodie's bed - he had to at least get Doyle to listen.
In such circumstances, there was only one solution, and that was rhubarb.
Leaning forward, so his chin propped uncomfortably on Doyle's shoulder, Bodie gave the idea a whirl. "Rhubarb."
The conversation ground to a halt as all attention turned his way. Bodie grinned. Mission accomplished. "It's what extras say in crowd scenes," he offered by way of explanation.
Much to Bodie's annoyance, Doyle ignored him. That would never work. If he wanted to Doyle to himself - and the aforementioned plans had included just the two of them in Bodie's bed - he had to at least get Doyle to listen.
In such circumstances, there was only one solution, and that was rhubarb.
Leaning forward, so his chin propped uncomfortably on Doyle's shoulder, Bodie gave the idea a whirl. "Rhubarb."
The conversation ground to a halt as all attention turned his way. Bodie grinned. Mission accomplished. "It's what extras say in crowd scenes," he offered by way of explanation.
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Part four
Date: 2007-01-20 12:03 pm (UTC)“What’s happening?”
“’Ey!”
“Move over, I can’t see!”
“Oh, god!”
Bodie was tempted to grab Doyle and leave. Almost certainly it was nothing to do with them. Let someone else deal with it.
But Doyle had spun on his heel and was already muscling his way back through the crowd, knocking party-goers to either side irregardless of class or gender. Resigned, Bodie followed in his wake, apologizing to the trampled, outraged souls Doyle had left in his wake.
Abruptly, the crowd cleared, and the cause of the commotion was visible. Bodie reached forward, but his fingers barely brushed Doyle’s shoulder before his partner was in motion again.
He dropped down to kneel beside the body on the floor – and it was clearly a body. No doubt about that, though Doyle was still searching for a pulse. Habit. Ingrained, even when it was obviously pointless.
Bodie looked at white foam on whiter lips and at the bright splash of red wine staining the front of the man’s shirt.
“Poison,” he said. It wasn’t a question.