Of shadows and pub runs minigolfnsushi

[lone_defender]

Three weeks in, Rose is starting to wonder if this whole...find someone with the Doctor's face, kidnap him on a pretty thin excuse...skip a step and profit in some way she hasn't figured out...isn't just a really stupid idea. Or not worth the effort.

Especially when a cranky would-be drunken vampire slayer won't stop pressing the call button at two in the morning when she's trying to concentrate on writing reports she wouldn't have to write if not for him in the first place.

Yep, those are times it's hard to think charitably about him.

It's also difficult when the call button is a midori emergency. At two in the morning after the pubs have closed and she'll have to exert Torchwood influence to get any. And he won't let her go on her own for whatever ridiculous reason or another. Maybe to irritate her.

She's cutting him off next week. That's it.

"Get in the car."

Comments

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

If he thought she was actually asleep, he woudn't have- well, okay, that was a complete and total lie. He didn't really care whether or not she was asleep, but he knew she wasn't. She was too much like him, and he never slept. Except, of course, for when he did. Usually after a bit too much to drink, or a good shag.

He gets in, slamming the door shut behind him. "Bloody step on it, would you? I've been out here for hours."

More like twenty minutes.

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

"Piss off, you should be sleeping, not worrying about your stash've vomit." Honestly, how he can stomach that at all, she doesn't know. She tosses him a glower through the rear-view mirror before she actually started off the property. "Sleeping people do not have t'drink."

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

"You piss off," he snapped, crossing his arm. "It isn't vomit yet, which is part of the fucking problem, isn't it?

He slumped in her passenger's seat, leaning on the window and looking sour. "Drinking people don't get to sleep without drinking."

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

She props an elbow on the the door, only half paying attention to the road, and offers him a small, slightly too sweet smile. "You know, Peter, Torchwood's got a comprehensive rehabilitation problem if you've got this much trouble with your drinking issues. Could have you sober in a week."

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

He shoots her a dark glare. Rehab was a dirty word. The worst word. Nobody should ever say that word. And besides, it wasn't as though he was a bloody heroin addict. It was his business. "You'll have me dead in three days, more like."

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

She's only partly serious. It's not as if his addiction is more than a severe annoyance. She'd really rather just wean him off of the vile stuff slowly. Or possibly see if it's possible to just...stop production of it. It's hideous.

"Have you been spiking that...stuff with something I ought to know about?"

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

If she manages to use her Torchwood influence to cease all Midori production, he absolutely will throw himself off a cliff.

"Eight ounces of cocaine a glass," he replied sarcastically, and pointed to a shopping center. "There. Twenty-four hours."

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

She's briefly tempted to keep driving past the market...but there's really not many others around nearby. The only other one serving midori at this hour will take an hour and a half to drive through, and she doesn't feel like putting up with him in tight quarters that long.

"Oh, good job. Never would have spotted it otherwise." She points at him when she pulls into the car park--naturally empty save for the one poor sap working odd hours. "You just stay here. Don't need you drinking the store or something."

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

"Probably not. You've got shit eyesight." He waved them on, even though they were in a car, as though it would hurry her up. "Yeah, yeah, right. Staying here."

The second she was out of the car, though, he was out behind her, lighting a cigarette and following her in the store, hands shoved deep down into her pockets.

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

"Shame for you I'm still driving, then." Honestly, where does he even get these jabs? Does he spend all his mostly-sober time on his own thinking them up, or are they off-the-cuff absurdities?

She makes it about halfway through the car park before she tosses him a disgruntled look. "Is there something wrong with your comprehension, Peter? I said stay there."

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

"Is there something wrong with your eyesight? Right, forgot. Clearly, I'm not staying there. I'm not a dog." He brushed passed her, opening up the shop door.

Which he held open for her. Like a gentleman.

He started down one aisle, stopped, turned around, skipped down two, and walked on with purpose. Some sort of midori sense, maybe.

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

"Have you got some sort of fixation with my eyes? Cos if you do I don't want to hear about it." And...there's him being weird again and being...pseudo-chivalrous while calling her blind for no discernible reason.

It's quite likely the warring impulses of being without his vile drink and being nearby it making him waspish and charitable at the same time. Frankly, she's happy to just let him wander with purpose. The store is small and mostly empty at this time of night, and it gives her time to think, as she'd been trying to do until he called her up demanding midori anyway.

That, and she just doesn't really want to be bothered with finding the blasted drink anyway. If he's going to demand to be here he might as well pick up his own drink. "You're just grabbing one here, mind, it's too expensive."

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

"They're quite lovely, in a detached, dead sort of way. Shut up and help me find it." He slipped around another isle, and- there. He's already walking back with a bottle in each hand and one stuffed under an arm when she speaks up, and he rolls his eyes.

"Right, because I depend completely on your salary. Fuck off, I'm rich." Richish. Wealthy, really, but either way, it was enough to afford three bottles of unicorn pee, which he promptly set on the counter in front of an unamused middle-eastern guy.

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

And...yeah, lucky him he found it on his own, because she's not about to go and help him find anything with dead eyes. That'd be difficult, wouldn't it. "I'll just wear shades for you from now on if they bother you so much, shall I?"

She clicks her tongue, following after him to the counter but not getting close enough to smell the rank stuff. The sealed bottles weren't so much of a problem as Peter, who smelled like a midori factory, and how anyone let him buy more alcohol in good conscience like that...she's not even sure.

"Then again I suppose I could use a break lugging those things around. Might as well use those as the next couple of deliveries." True, neither of them have any worry about the price of the bottle...it's just that she tries to regulate his intake of that toxic stuff at the best of times. Considering the irritation it's causing her right now, cutting him off entirely doesn't seem that unappealing.

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

"Please do. Spare us all. Can't look at you without hearing Kelly Clarkson. Blimey, I hate that bitch." He rifled through his jacket to find his wallet. Clearly, he doesn't notice the intent she's harboring, just slaps a fifty down on the table and walks out with the bag in one hand and a bottle in the other.

"Come on. Time to go. Can't hang out all day. Shouldn't you be sleeping at this time of night?"

He's already out the door, holding it open for her, and as soon as her hand reaches it, he's heading across the parking lot to hold open her car door, as well.

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

"...On second thought if you've got a problem with Kelly Clarkson that sounds like a personal problem I'm not gettin' involved in." Who even is that? If she finds out it's a porn star she really is cutting him off from his midori.

She frowns at him, perplexed, when he holds the car door open. Not because of his contradictory nature again, but for his rushing. Why's he in a hurry? Isn't he usually pretty eager to not....hole up or something?

"What's eating at you? And now I'm up, so no, not sleeping. Aren't you going to fuss about other things you want now that you're out? I dunno...t'go bar hopping or something?" Never mind they're mostly closed this time of night.

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

He frowns at her, and motions for her to get in with a sharp, annoyed jerk of his head.

"If you knew the kinds of things that run about at this time of night, you'd already be in the car." He gives up on gentlemanly after a few moments, and rounds the car to climb in the passenger's seat. He's already fiddling with the bottle of midori, trying to get it open.

"And she's a pop singer, by the way. Kelly Clarkson. I haven't fucked her." He fiddled with it a bit more. "Yet."

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I think I know better than you do, Mate." She scoffs, and scans the car park a moment, out of ingrained training more than anything else. Nothing. Perfectly calm and safe London car park.

She tosses him a sidelong look as she settles in to her seat. "Oh, so that's your problem? She turned you down. You're like, what, twelve?" After a moment, she snatches the bottle from his hand and puts it in the arm rest. "Open that in this car and I swear I'll throw it out the window."

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

"No- that's-" he lets out a little scoff, and looks up from his bottle-fiddling to give her an 'are you seriously that stupid?' look. "She sang this song. Behind Hazel Eyes or something. It's- d'you know what? If you have to explain the joke, it isn't funny. Just get in and let's be off, already."

The dark was making him twitchy, and the lack of alcohol was making him annoyed. Also, she was bossy, and probably actually would throw out the bottle, so he just held it and glared at her.

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

He's really starting to make her a bit antsy with all of his twitching, like a drug addict going into withdrawals and not...someone deprived of his alcohol for a very short time. Well, it's...either he's making her anxious or something else is. But she doesn't see anything in the rear view mirror, she's not catching anything in her peripheral vision as she drives that she can't immediately identify.

Everything is calm. Everything on the street is calm...and silent...and unmoving.

They're in the middle of London. And it's quiet.

"Peter, d'you have your seat belt on? Cos I swear..."

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

"Why would I have a seat belt on? When I said you were a shit driver, I was only jo-" Something moved in the rear-view mirror. His eyes darted to it, then to the right side mirror.

"Rose," he began calmly, twisting the bottle around in his hand to hold it by the neck. "Pull over, please."

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

She grits her teeth. See? This is why she always berates him about wearing the bloody thing, and he still refuses to. Admission about her driving skills or not.

"Peter. Buckle in." Because they can still outrun it, she's sure. She's outrun faster with less notice, and she's not facing down a Shadowling-thing in the middle of the night without back up. She's not. She's going to lose it, go home, and make it abundantly clear they're never doing this again.

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

"Rose. You're not gonna outrun it. It's in the back seat."

He's practically twisted around backward, half-sitting on the dash, his feet pressed against the seat, a bottle of midori in one hand, and a the other is rifling around in his coat pocket.

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

Oh, brilliant. Right. New plan. "Yeah, I know, now buckle in." It's still got weight and mass unless it's phasing--in which case they can outrun it--and they've got a better fighting chance if it's fifty feet ahead of them instead of trying to get out of the car while it's in the backseat.

Yeah, right now that's her best plan.

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

"I am no-" He paused, mouth still half open, giving her an incredulous look.

Oh. That was her plan. "Fffffuck."

He twisted in the seat, trying to ignore the pointedly materializing figure in the back. He snapped on his seat-belt, and clung to his midori, watching her.

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

Yes. It's not the best plan, but it'll work. They have only a few moments to do this...a few for it to solidify and then a moment or two before it strikes or cottons on. Good job Cybus Auto's known for its excellent accelerators.

one...two...three...

She slams on the brakes just as the figure behind her becomes opaque. They've got air bags and seatbelts. It doesn't. Serves it right for going after her charge.

[minigolfnsushi.livejournal.com]

The seatbelt locks in around him, and he can feel the forces tugging him forward. He clings to his midori like a mother to it's child. The thing in the backseat isn't so lucky.

It's corporal now, and the forces shoot it forward, cracking into the windshield and shattering the glass. It sprawls out, clinging to the hood.

"Fuckfuckfuck."

[lone-defender.livejournal.com]

She'd hoped it would have gone further, but honestly, outside and clinging to the hood is better than in the backseat. She fights down the shock and urge to recoil from the sudden stop. She fights with the air bag a bit, still superior to her own universe's air bags, and undoes her belt.

"Move!" That space advantage isn't going to last long before it becomes a disadvantage.