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Tweak says, "who's afraid of virginia woolf"

Peter Grant [The Folly series] (got_vestigium) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2012-03-19 23:01:00

Entry tags:

aziraphale, peter grant

Who: Peter and OPEN
What: Winding down
When: Tonight
Where: Random old pub a few blocks east of Building D
Rating: TBD
Notes: Lyrics from Eric Hutchinson's "Food Chain"
Status: In progress

There was nothing quite like a pint after pulling a twelve hour. One would've thought that the Colligo PD wasn't very active, and one would've been mental to even think that. The place was full to bursting with all sorts of nutters who thought that their time here would be better spent in lock up, and that was just the locals. Loads more of the uncanny sorts than back in London, too, and unlike London, they weren't afraid to flaunt themselves.

His rubber-soled police issue shoes had given up on him the last hour of the shift and left his feet aching, so much that when he bellied up to the worn down bar and settled down into a rusted barstool with a cushion that looked like it had seen better decades, they could've literally sighed in relief.

The bar was next to empty save for himself and the portly man drying mugs out behind the counter. Hunched over a small hardcover book, his pint and a red plastic basket that contained an untouched cold burger and chips, off to the side, Peter was so engrossed in reading that he didn't notice the bell situated over the front door chime.

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theflamingsword
2012-03-23 04:21 am UTC (link)

Aziraphale was supposed to be meeting Crowley for drinks, as they often did in this particular pub. The place was a good choice because it was never very crowded and that generally meant there were less people to raise eyebrows at their often convoluted topics of conversation. He said supposed to because, from the looks of things, the serpent had yet to arrive. This meant one of three things. Either something had come up at work, leaving Crowley to have to mind Gabriel and Balthazar, or he had gotten distracted tempting mortals and had forgotten or been held up. Or, and this was honestly most likely, he was deliberately missing their meeting in the hopes of riling him up so they could argue and then have a make-up shag. Yes, the last was really the most likely of the three.

Still, he rather liked a good drink now and then, and with any luck Crowley might still show up. Sitting down at the bar, he gave a gesture of greeting to the old man who ran the place. The man knew what he drank, and he didn't even need to say anything before there was a glass of whiskey in front of him. He took a sip, then glanced over at the only other patron, sitting a few stools over and reading a book. That was certainly a pastime of which he could approve. The young man was most certainly a non local, and magically inclined from what he could tell. And, since the serpent wasn't here, he saw no harm in a bit of conversation.

"You certainly look as though you're enjoying that," he said, gesturing to the book. He couldn't see the title, though he easily could have known just by looking at the young man. Still, that removed all the fun of talking to him about it. "Is it very good?" There. He was making an effort at meeting new people. Crowley would be positively thrilled when he told him later.

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got_vestigium
2012-03-26 04:42 am UTC (link)

Rubbing his bald head in thought (and in mild pain from an oncoming headache thanks in part to Latin conjugations), Peter was taken by surprise as someone close by spoke up to him.

Enjoying it? Well that was a broad term.. If he enjoyed subjecting himself to migraines and impending catatonia thanks to Nightingale's drilling everything Latin right into him, then maybe he was enjoying himself. Wouldn't do to let his studies slip, even if he wasn't in West End anymore. Nightingale would have a field day with it and he'd end up locked in some room in the Folly for a straight week with nothing to do but pore over various dusty Latinesque tomes, sustained only on Molly's cooking.

"Mandatory, more like." He looked over at the other man who appeared to be simply tolerating talking to him, which he could understand as pubs usually weren't talking grounds, at least the sleazier low-class joints back home. But, Peter decided to press his luck anyway and showed the small book to the man. "Latin.. My governor back home would have my bollocks for supper if I didn't fight the good fight and keep my studies."

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