quartermaster_q: (what?)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
Q's interest in one Finlay Alexander Flynn, actor, writer, and possible supernatural being, began and ended with one Thomas Hector Schofield. AKA, one of a handful of people Q considered a friend. However, despite not being a main focus of interest, Q did keep tabs on him- As he kept tabs on most people who came in and out of his life, and the lives of his friends. It wasn't an all consuming hobby or anything, but in quiet moments Q like to track them down, one by one, and just have a quick peek in to see who was up to what. Glances at browser histories, a glimpse of CCTV. Most of it was boring, but now and then something of note would catch his eye, urging him to watch a bit longer.

Often it was something too personal to get involved in, like a glimpse of Hex's boyfriend getting high behind a club, or one 'Captain' Jack Harkness very definitely keeping tabs on his current lover. However, tonight was less personal, and more unsettling. Most of his surveillance of Finlay Flynn was fairly mundane lately. He worked, he went home, or stopped off for a pint. It was nothing like it had been a year or so ago, when his presence had seemed to cause all sorts of interference with CCTV and various other bits of tech. So Q wasn't sure what it was that made him watch the actor for more than a few moments tonight. Something just seemed off.

Flicking between cameras, he watched the young celebrity do a fair job of avoiding the paps, before looking up the actor's usual route home and frowning at how off course he was tonight. A glance at his calendar and texts showed no evidence that he'd be headed anywhere but home this evening, and yet he seemed to be winding around London in the most impractical way. Not a scenic route either, really. Not unless you liked looking at skips.

He'd been watching for a solid ten minutes before the cameras finally caught a glimpse of something odd following behind him, a strange shimmer that seemed to warp and distort the camera image just a touch. Finlay wasn't just off course this evening, he appeared to be evading someone- Or, rather, something.

Frowning, Q pulled out his phone to text James, and perhaps his contacts at five- However, before he could even start to type, Finlay was simply gone. ...Vanished. Rewinding the footage, it was as if the man had simply blinked out of existence, and the young Quartermaster found himself reaching for his coat as he sent out a text to every contact he trusted and headed out to Finlay's last known location.

(OTA! Fin is missing, and will prolly be missing for about a week IG time. Feel free to assume Q texted your pup if they know one another well, or to simply spot him on the street searching for Fin. Late tags and slow tags are all very welcome, and if you want to be more involved with Fin's mini plot, feel free to nudge me in email or on slack. <3)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Lucky in love or not, London was a lovely place to find yourself on Valentine's Day. From romantic walks through various parks, to intimate dinners or shared deserts in the many restaurants and cafe's- There was something for everyone, because if wandering or dining wasn't for you, well, there were plenty of organised events to attend.

London couldn't claim to be the city of love, but it was certainly a city of possibilities.
lcrpg_npc: (night)
[personal profile] lcrpg_npc
The repurposed railway arches that housed Beagle's bar and restaurant were decked in shades of black: black christmas trees glittering with sparkly and satiny black ornaments, black wreaths with perfectly tied bows, black garlands draping along the walls and bar, ribbons edging the long banquet benches in the restaurant dining room. A gentle snow seemed to fall from the ceiling, a specially designed lighting effect much more pleasant than the cold and wet that would've accompanied real snow. Christmas music played over hidden speakers, setting the mood without interfering with conversation.

The Kraken Black Christmas feast was a different spin on the holiday than you'd find most places, and yet, a christmas feast all the same. All the flavors of the season were there, both in the bar's specialty cocktails and in the feast itself, served banquet-style to those fortunate enough to get tickets - mulled wine, egg nog, roasts and stuffing and puddings, and so much more. Yet the food and drinks all shared the same theme as the decor, shades of black augmented with squid ink, charcoal, or black sesame seeds.

Guests had been encouraged to continue the theme with black festive attire, but it wasn't required, and spots of color could be found here and there along the table or mingling in the bar. There was one thing everyone could agree on, though. No matter how black the theme, the mood was anything but dark.
londoncallingmods: (spoops)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
The weather today had been fairly pleasant, a mostly sunny day wedged between fairly grey ones. It wasn't warm, but the chill was minimal for this time of year, and there wasn't a drop of rain in sight. As night crept in, however, the streets slowly faded from sun kissed and painted in autumnal colours, to foggy and damp. An odd thing, really, since the forecast had predicted a clear and pleasant night.

It wasn't normal fog either, it was denser, thicker, and it carried an distinct scent, like cinnamon sugar and chestnuts. It was so thick it seemed to drain the streets of their colour, leaving the wold desaturated and grey. More importantly, anyone with a bit of magic in them would sense, quite quickly, that it wasn't of this world. It crackled quietly with power, dark and heavy. Unfriendly.

It was around nine pm that the local police stations began to receive calls, things they assumed were pranks at first, but soon began rolling in so quickly and frequently that it seemed something more was afoot. The evening news spoke of mass hysteria, warning people to stay indoors. Conspiracy blogs were lit up with chatter of chemical warfare, and some 'airborne drug'. There were reports of people seeing everything from long dead loved ones, to killer clowns.

Though despite the nervous chattering of talking heads and twitter addicts, most people were paying the supposed danger no mind. Clubs and bars on every block were blasting music and throwing costume parties, people were out with friends, wandering the streets and looking for a fun time. It may have been Monday, but that didn't seem to be stopping many people from enjoying the holiday.  

For the most part, everything seemed fine. ...The crowds and groups remained oblivious to the danger of the fog. ...It was only those who slipped off on their own, to have a quick smoke, to get some air or head home early. They were the ones in danger, they were the ones who's darkest fears seemed to emerge from the thick fog. 

Around 10pm, reports started to come in regarding a body found in Whitechapel, cut open wide and left to bleed out. No prints at the scene, no signs that anyone else had even been there. The CCTV footage had somehow been rendered useless, glitched out and blurred. A trouble echoed by every other security camera on the street. It was enough to set twitter and the internet off all over again, with talk of how the things seen in the fog might, somehow, be real.

(Happy Halloween! The fog is bringing fears and spoops to life! You can make the creatures and fabrications of the fog as personal or general as you like. Whatever works best to spook your pup. If, for any reason, you don't want your pup to see any spooks, that's totally fine too. It's not a required plot. Unlike last year, this time around the creepy things your pup might see can harm them and do real damage. Though they will vanish in the morning. If your pup is sensitive to magic in any way, they might sense that this magic is distinctly fae. If you have questions about what you can or can't do, just ask in slack! Though really, the only limit here is your imagination. Remember to check with other players before doing anything that might seriously hurt their pup, ect, ect, and have fun!)


Aug. 17th, 2016 03:17 am
0_0_7: (Default)
[personal profile] 0_0_7
Q was missing.

It wasn't unusual for him to not come home, or for he and Bond to pass like ships in the night. But when he didn't answer his texts or emails and when Bond found out he hadn't been to Q Branch in two days, he began to do some digging on his own. He certainly wasn't as adept at Q at hacking and such, but he knew his way around. He still could manage a few new tricks. And so he hacked into the CCTV near the last ping of Q's GPS and watched intently. What he saw was Q being snatched off the street on his way to a tube stop, likely on his way home.

Bond had lost precious time and knew Q could be anywhere. He resolved not to panic. Instead, he steeled himself and began to work methodically through contacts and back channels, trying to track down the white van. He finally narrowed it down to a rental agency at Heathrow.

Going there only got him so far. A bogus credit car, a fake name. But he did know when it had been dropped off and he began to pull up flight data of planes that had taken off within a four hour window of when the van had been returned. He was casting a wide net. He knew he needed help.

And so he opened his phone and scrolled through the numbers until he found someone he thought could help. Hitting call, he rang them.

"This is Bond. I need a avour. Meet me at Piccadilly in a half an hour."

Nothing more, no details. He made the call and then went to the meet.

He'd find Q if it was the end of him.

(A bit different of an OTA...especially looking for spies but if Bond knows you and he thinks you'd be of use then do tag in! Excited to kick off a new plot!)


May. 18th, 2016 05:59 pm
quartermaster_q: (Default)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
Hunting down these sorts of men, the kind who bought and sold the innocent, seemed to be a pet project for Bond, and while Q wasn't totally sure what had inspired the man's mission, he respected it.

The first time they'd followed a lead like this, it hadn't gone as hoped. Though this time around at least Q was prepared to play the part. Currently he was alone in the bar, deliberately dressed a bit younger than usual, his glasses swapped out for contacts, and his hair styled in a way that made him look younger. 

Q looked young anyway, but like this he truly looked too young to be a bloody quartermaster.

This was just reconnaissance though. They knew their target frequented the bars on this street, and Q's job tonight was to simply catch his interest. He had tanner in his ear, Eve on his phone sending texts, and he wouldn't have been surprised if Bond was listening or watching as well. Though he was sure they were all bored out of their mind right now. There was no sign of their mark, and he was yet to be approached by anyone who might be involved in the ring. ...Or anyone, for that matter.

(OTA! Q is kinda on the job right now, so expect him to play a part, even if you know him. Your pup can be mistaken for the target, an associate of the target, or just get have a nice chat. If you're in the mood your character can even mistake Q for an actual possible victim/target. The choice is yours.)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods

(As always gathering posts are open for at least one week. Feel free to use the heading of your comment to let other players know what day and time your top level takes place. Tag in now and check back often to tag others!)
goodfellow: (chair)
[personal profile] goodfellow
One month ago, one of Soho's trendiest and yet least profitable dance clubs closed its doors. There were rumors for a while that the space was going to be turned into an upscaled gym, or perhaps gutted and chopped up into boutique shopping. But not much of anything seemed to be happening until just after Christmas, when the trucks were constantly parked by the service entrance and there seemed to be a flurry of activity.

Meanwhile, anyone who was anyone received a VIP invitation to the "pre-opening" of SATURNALIA, soon to be London's newest hot spot, but in the meantime hosting a huge party to ring in the new year. Togas optional but encouraged. Also receiving these invitations was anyone who even remotely knew Robin Goodfellow (or Rob Fellows), though his name wasn't on them.

The doors were also open to anyone, a line and bouncer required only because the space could only fit so many. But Robin had instructed the bouncer to be creative if not random with who he let in. As far as he was concerned, pulling in a street urchin or two over the hot starlets would not only improve the atmosphere but be good for business in the long run.

The doors opened at 9pm, and the place filled steadily as midnight approached. Inside, the club was clearly not finished, and there were many trappings from the previous space still in place - a large dance floor, several bars, private rooms, a couple of small stages for performances, an impressive elevated DJ table. For tonight, the theme was clearly one of the decadence of ancient Greek - decorations in gold and white and stone, replications (one would assume) of famous artwork of the time, including a number of statues. A copy of "David" cast in stone was a centerpiece, set up in an area that encouraged partygoers to take selfies.

The bars were not open, but prices were much cheaper than they should have been, coupled by the occasional appearance of Robin in his (somewhat skimpy) toga and gold-cast laureal wreath crown to hand out shots, mead, or wine to random partygoers. The point of the party was clearly not to make money but to build buzz, and from the length of the line outside after a couple of hours it was clearly working.
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Merry Christmas!
You are invited to celebrate the season with Finlay Flynn and Willy Silver.
When: Christmas Eve (5pm – Midnight)
RSVP: By Email (SBMNGR@ldnmgmt893.co.uk) Before 19/12
Upon entry you'll be given a ticket for one free drink. All drinks after that are 5 each. There will also be a free buffet in the dining area.
Dress code: Casual, but tidy please!
Raffle: Come wearing a festive sweater and you will automatically be entered into a raffle to win a 65 inch TV.
Donate: Bring three tins of canned food to be donated to the local food bank, and receive an extra drink ticket.

Look forward to:
A live DJ, live music, an appearance by Santa, gift bags with deluxe swag, and the company of old and new friends!

(OTA! Happy holidays! If you know Fin, Willy, Phouka, or Winter, feel free to assume they gave you an invite. If not, you can say your pup got an invite through a friend of a friend, someone who knows someone, ect. It IS invite over (no gate crashing pups please, Fin's a giver and would want everyone to feel included), but the pups hosting the party are pretty active and I believe they know almost everyone in the game. And the people they don't know surely know people who do. Even if you only met them once, you got an invite somehow! This gathering post is open all week, and beyond!)
quartermaster_q: (stickers)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
It was very important to have a work laptop and a personal laptop when you were in Q's line of work. One that was strictly business, and one that was pleasure and built to be experimented on. More importantly, where work computers were built to reflect ones professional strengths and projected a certain level of professionalism, personal computers could be a bit more fun and laid back. 

Q's personal laptop was a true workhorse, one he'd actually built himself - And rebuilt often. It looked a touch beat up, the screen coming away from the case in the left hand corner, and the keyboard so worn that all the key letters had worn away, leaving only f1 through f8 visible, along with the alt key on the left, and the end key on the far right. The case was a dull grey, covered in stickers from various events he'd attended and music acts he liked, as well as a few generic 'nerdy' logos and things. It was not something he'd take to work unless he absolutely needed to. Everything about this machine was personal- From its looks, to the hard drive he'd selected and the wires he'd used. It ran his own personalized OS, and was, honestly, one of his prized possessions.

The laptop currently sat on the table in front of him, the specially designed screen making it so only Q could see what he was typing. To anyone not wearing special glasses, the text would look like gibberish or a foreign language. It was experimental tech, but Q loved that sort of thing. He was always happy to be a guinea pig when it came to his own work.

Case in point: His hand. 

After his and Bond's recent abduction, Q had found himself with a shattered hand. He'd been told it would heal, but that it would take time, and that it might not ever be completely functional again- And that simply hadn't been good enough for the young Quartermaster. Cybernetics were something he'd only ever dabbled in, but Q was a genius- And he was the youngest Quartermaster MI6 had ever had for a reason. ...He was brilliant, and his new hand was remarkable. A mixture of flesh, blood, and electronics. Bond had been snippy about it, and M had lectured him for nearly two hours- But both men had agreed it was a remarkable bit of tech.

Q couldn't help but be pleased as it easily tapped away at the keys of his laptop, roaming over them as gracefully as ever as he worked on one of his other unsanctioned projects. He was in his own little world at the moment, lost in the elegant coding on his screen, and the music that was piping out of his headphones. He didn't notice that his phone was buzzing on the table, dancing across the flat surface as it rang silently and vibrated hard.


Jul. 5th, 2015 09:48 am
quartermaster_q: (all in black)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
"Q could do it," Tanner had suggested, prompting the young Quartermaster to look up from what he was doing and frown deeply.
"He certainly could not," the fluffy haired boffin replied blandly, shooting Tanner a look, then returning his attention to his laptop. "Besides, I don't go into the field without double-o seven."
It wasn't even official work they were talking about. Q Branch had simply gotten wind that a certain soviet agent was in town, apparently not on business, and at some point had started talking about how useful it might be to bug his personal laptop before five worked out he was here and got to him first. It had started off as light banter, a joke even, but it had gotten more and more serious as the time passed. Serious enough that someone had opened the man's file and had started reading up on the agent in question.
"It's not the field, it's a bar," Hopper, a young tech, chimed in. "Besides, you're just his type. Go in, have a flirt, bug him, then get out."
Q scowled, but it was obvious that they weren't going to let up- And really, it wasn't a terrible idea. He didn't like going out on something like this without Bond, but Bond wasn't in the office right now. He'd have to do this alone.
"Fine," Q eventually agreed with a sigh. "I'll do it."
That was how he wound up in a dreadful bar, sitting at a filthy table beside a large man who was attempting to get him very drunk. 
"Oh, just one more, come on," the man insisted, putting another beer down in front of Q.
His head was already spinning, and he knew if he drank any more he wouldn't be sober enough to do what needed to be done. His fingers grazed over his ear, tapping the device that sat inside as he assured the man he couldn't have another drop, hoping to alert his team that he needed some help- Except there was nothing. No static, no sound at all.
"What's wrong?" the Russian asked, his tone calm as his arm snaked around Q. "Can your friends not hear you any more?"
Q's pulse fluttered, and he tensed as he felt a small blade press against his side.
"You're right, you've had enough to drink," the man whispered. "Let's get out of here, hmm?"
Getting to his feet, Q let the man guide him, though the young Quartermaster moved slowly, scanning the crowd for help. He'd known this was a dreadful idea, and the moment he got away from the bastard he was going to march right back to Q branch and tell them all what a bunch of idiots they were.
(OTA! Feel free to have your pup notice the hidden knife, or not notice and simply approach Q by chance.)


Jun. 18th, 2015 08:58 pm
quartermaster_q: (Default)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
Q could be, on occasion, just a touch moody and antisocial. He'd spent the morning locked in his office at Q branch, guiding twelve through the subterranean tunnels of Paris, but with his work done he'd quietly slipped out with his laptop in search of somewhere less... Well, less like Q branch. Sometimes the sterile desks and bright lights simply got to him. It was all so clean and tidy- Terribly dull.

Which was why he'd spent the day moving from location to location. An afternoon in the park, an evening in a cheep little cafe, part of his night at a bar, tucked away at a table in the back- and the end of the night at a very dark and dingy club, tapping away on his phone as he occupied an entire booth at the back.

None of these places were approved by Six as work spaces, but that just made them all the more enjoyable as he picked apart codes, crafted new viruses and key loggers, and went about his daily tasks.

(OTA! Find Q at any of these sorts of locations throughout the day! He'll likely be taking up entire tables and tapping away on either his laptop or his phone, but feel free to make up any excuse for your pup to say hello. :D)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
 The evening was crisp as people flooded the West End for a night of fun. Restaurants and cafe's were full early and late, catering to the theater crowds that came for supper before their shows and dessert after. The theaters had various plays and musicals, many with big name stars- others with up-and-comers. The lights were bright and the atmosphere festive.
People wandered up and down the sidewalks and the traffic was thick. In the dark there were pickpockets but for the most part the crowds were safe.
It promised to be a good run for most of the shows if the atmosphere was any indication.


Feb. 26th, 2015 08:13 pm
quartermaster_q: (undercover)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
 It was rare that Q worked with anyone but Bond now, and rarer still that he worked in the field without double-o seven. However, M had requested he be on site with one of their newer double-o's, and M's 'requests' weren't things any sensible person turned down.

New double-o's were wild cards though, and the mission had been completed- But not without it's fair share of complications.

The end result was Q riding home alone on the tube, his hand beneath his coat so he could apply pressure to the small knife wound in his side. ...Well, as small as any knife wound could really be. He was concealing the blood well enough, but anyone who looked his way would easily see the young man was clearly in pain.

(Late tags welcome!)


Jan. 13th, 2015 06:00 pm
quartermaster_q: (searching)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
Outside of work, outside of his relationship with James, and outside of the various naughty activities (both online and off) he got up to in his spare time, Q lived a fairly normal life. He rode the tube, picked up his shopping, took care of his beloved cat... Normal things. Boring things. ...Things that kept him grounded at least somewhat in the world all the normals and civilians called home. It was nice, usually- A tiny escape from the reality he knew.

Though it was also, on occasion, painfully dull- And living in said world meant dealing with normal inconveniences, like going to the bank- and having said bank held up when all you wanted to do was deposit a bloody check- Something you could have done online if their website hadn't been so bloody rubbish.

He was sitting on the floor, along with several other hostages, watching as four armed men shouted at the two cashiers and the bank manager. They wore masks, so Q didn't feel as though he was in any intimidate danger (more likely to just take the money and run than shoot), but he was feeling a touch inconvenienced. The sooner this was over, the better.

Slipping his hand casually into his pocket, he sent off three texts.

The first went to Bond:

If you're not terribly busy, perhaps you could come fetch me? 4m4g17hSparrow

The next went out to all of Q branch:

Activate LCCTV44670. Thank you. - Q

The last went out to a special list he'd compiled of local agents and officers. Not just five and six, but anyone he'd deemed competent and worthy of a small amount of trust:

If anyone would be so kind, I could use a little help. Code 8967-793Q

With any luck, this would all be sorted soon enough.

(Open to all! If you are police/agent/whatever feel free to assume you got Q's text (and that the code given lets you know who he is and why you should go get him). If you are none of those things, feel free to be a hostage as well, or simply passing by! I'd prefer if no one got hurt or anything (it's just meant to be a tiny bit of excitement), but if you really want your pup to get hurt, that's fine.)


Nov. 22nd, 2014 03:25 pm
quartermaster_q: (let me tell u a thing)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
 One of the strangest things about Q was, actually, just how painfully normal he was. From his daily commute on the tube, to his Thursday night curry from the local take out- There was nothing about the young quartermaster that really caused him to stand out in a crowd. 

For example, today he was wandering around the Boots at Covent Garden, and though his blue suede Doc Martins clashed a a bit with his tweed trousers and yellow cardigan, he didn't look any different from the various hipsters and fashionistas who were filling their baskets all around him. No one passing by would ever glance at the young man and suspect he was an expert hacker or spook. He looked more like the kind of young man with more instagram followers than real friends- You know the sort.

Presently, MI6's least threatening deadly weapon was browsing the shop's large selection of chapsticks, his fingers brushing over his painfully dry lips as he considered his options. His basket was already full of other items, from hand cream to disinfectant, and he couldn't help but smile to himself as he thought about how painfully bored Bond would be by all this. ...Q, however, enjoyed this sort of thing. As easy as it was to order everything online, there was something pleasant about going out and picking up what one needed. In fact, after this he thought he might go clothes shopping, or even out for a meal. 

Frankly, it was nice just not having to worry about bullet wounds and security flaws for a while.

(OTA! Good time to meet him if you never have before! Late tags welcome. :D)


Nov. 16th, 2014 06:46 pm
0_0_7: (00Q)
[personal profile] 0_0_7
A lot of their things began in comm posts and move to private for length or for smut which are not linked since you can follow those from the main posts. What is missing here is a plot involving a rogue 006, Alec Trevalyen, and a marriage proposal which Q accepts. TW for canon-style violence of fights and shooting people and explosions.

August 3
Bond and Q have a mission in Paris and it goes wrong. Q is taken, Bond moves heaven and earth to get him back.
HERE | Complete | Adult- sex and TW: violence

September 3
Bond has a mission in Syria and makes it back alive.
HERE | Complete | Adult- sex

October 12
There is a planned assissination of the Syrian ambassador which Bond and Q stop, but it's just not right...
HERE | Complete | Adult - Sex and violence

October 30
Bond and Q are taken by an old nemesis in Japan but they escape and sort thigns out.
HERE | Complete | Adult - sex and violence

November 9
Q has a much needed night with Hex at an S&M club and then takes his desire home to Bond who is quite welcoming of Q's lust
HERE | Complete | Adult - Sex and consensual S&M play

Novemeber 15
Bond and Q go to Greece to infiltrate a PK cell and the mission goes terribly wrong.
HERE | ONGOING | Adult - TW mentions of turture, probably sex eventually
quartermaster_q: (clothes)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
Q was not a double-o. He didn't fight like a double-o, he didn't run like a double-o. He was swift and spry, and those qualities served him well, but they didn't hold up against trained agents. It was for that reason that he was usually kept out of the field- But little could be done when fieldwork came looking for him.

He'd noticed them following him just as he'd stepped onto the train, ready to head home after another long day at the office. He knew what they were after, though he wondered how they knew he currently had a prototype for a new digital lock pick tucked away in his bag. He never advertised when he was taking something home to work on or test- Which meant this was either an inside job or they had a leak. Either way, he knew he had to think fast.

Casually he moved through the other passengers on the train, cutting through to the next carriage, then the next. He deliberately missed his stop, then changed trains twice, hopeful he'd lost them as he finally got off one station before his own.

He hadn't even made it through the turnstiles when he spotted them again, and he took off as fast as his feet would take him, hoping he could cut through the side alley the next block over and then head down to another station and train hop again- But he didn't get that far. He was halfway down the alley when one of the men caught up to him, throwing him against the brick wall and drawing a fist back to throw a punch.

Two options- Mace in his bag, or small knife in his pocket. Mace was the riskier choice- harder to locate and operate before the punch landed. 

It had to be the knife.

He freed the blade from it's sheath as he slipped it from his pocket, and drove it hard into his attacker's gut. There was no time to think, no time to calculate what kind of wound he'd inflict- Only action, and then the sound of the man's grunt and a groan as he slumped and hit the pavement.

Not an ideal solution, but very effective.

(OTA! Q just stabbed a dude. Feel free to find him as he is- standing over the dying man's body- Or after, splashed with blood and heading home.)
matter_of_circumstances: (working)
[personal profile] matter_of_circumstances
Nat was tired and jetlagged. Her day had been far too long: a chartered flight from Dubai to New York, debriefing and a quick check by the med team (her shoulder was no longer dislocated, but it was in a sling and still tender as hell), and then back to the airport to catch her commercial flight back to London. At least she'd flown first-class, and had managed to get some sleep on the plane, but she really just wanted her bed.

She knew she would regret not eating first, though, and her fridge in her flat was all but bare. So she grabbed a cab from Heathrow, dropped her luggage off at home (resisting the urge to shower, because if she did that she really would fall asleep), and set out to find somewhere within walking distance that was still open at this time of night.

At this point, she knew she might end up eating dinner at a kebab shop, but she was past the point of caring. She just wanted hot food, some painkillers, a shower and some sleep, so she would be functional enough to surive the day at her cover job tomorrow.

[Set to around 11pm. Feel free to catch her at the airport and share a cab, run into her on the street, or make chitchat at the kebab shop while she waits for her order. :D She's probably got a few visible scratches and bruises, and her right arm is in a sling.]
oftherivers: (sunspotted)
[personal profile] oftherivers
OCTOBER 11, 2014 - Lizzie asks the river if she should follow her husband's advice and seek out his MI6 contact. When she does, Bond promises to see what he can do. - HERE.


londoncallingrpg: (Default)
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