Round Robin - Start

[empty-mirrors.livejournal.com]

The 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.

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[solosundance.livejournal.com]

Doyle had been playing this game long enough to recognize when abject fear was preventing coherent speech. He slowly released the grip, but kept his face close to the Russian man's.

"I think we'd better have a little explore," he said. "And you can go first." He glanced over his shoulder to where Bodie was still slouched against the bookcase. "Alright, Tiddles?"

"No problem," Bodie said, pushing himself upright. "I can see in the dark, remember?" He came up behind Doyle and gave him a little bump with his hips. "I'll um ... bring up the rear."

Actually, Doyle thought, as they processed into the yawning black, Bodie did have the odd feline characteristic, and making him purr was one of the most rewarding activities he could think of. He was managing to pad down behind Doyle now, without making a sound. Almost like he wasn't really there.

Doyle's gun was pressed into the small of Borislav's back, and his other hand steadied himself against the clammy wall. An overpowering dankness was drifing up with each descending step.

"Is maybe not .. good idea," came a muffled voice from in front, and then all of a sudden the gun was pressing into thin air. Doyle tried to halt his own progress but found his feet gone from under him.

When he landed in a dazed heap he was on top of Borislav who was cursing softly in his native tongue. There was cold stone underneath them, and dark all around.

For a second his voice caught in his throat. "Bodie?" he shouted.

A disturbingly thick silence rolled back at him.