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Inspector Meg Thatcher, RCMP (megthatcher) wrote in utr_logs,
@ 2009-01-30 14:51:00

Entry tags:

constable benton fraser, inspector meg thatcher

Maintiens le droit
Who: Inspector Meg Thatcher and Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP
What: Strategy session
When: Approximately an hour after this exchange
Where: CSIS safehouse, Bloomsbury
Warnings: Probably nothing to worry about

Bloomsbury, of all places. Well, Thatcher supposed it was a logical enough choice, given the nearby large tourist hotels and shopping centre. Plenty of anonymous people around. Likely the sort of place where a spy could blend in.

CSIS, of all agencies. She had never pictured herself in the Service canadien du renseignement de sécurité, in either covert or overt ops, and now here she is with identification that (apparently) proclaims her to be Maggie Norton. Maggie. She never liked being called "Maggie," and had insisted on "Meg" as soon as she could.

At least it was still in service to her country, though she'd feel more comfortable if she still had red serge to call her own. Unlike Fraser, who was ... someone who got asked for his autograph? He must feel the loss of his uniform more keenly than she does.

So ... things could be worse. And she and Fraser--and the wolf--surely will be able to figure out a way back home.

Her impatience turns to anxiety as she imagines what an unsupervised Turnbull could do to the consulate while she's away.

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	chicagomountie 2009-01-30 08:33 pm UTC (link)
	"Precious little, sir, other than the fact that this is apparently a common occurrence here, wherever 'here' is precisely, for when I asked at the Consulate about this confusing turn of events, the young woman assisting me seemed entirely unperturbed by what I was telling her." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	megthatcher 2009-01-30 08:43 pm UTC (link)
	What kind of place is this? "How does society function? How can ... my God, the disruptions this could cause all over the world!" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

chicagomountie
2009-01-30 09:09 pm UTC (link)

Fraser sets his hat down upon the coffee table, though he remains standing as he reaches into the top left breast pocket of his red serge to withdraw the wallet he discovered earlier. "I expect there must be some provisions in place, or there would be complete chaos." He opens the wallet, feeling oddly intrusive about doing so once again, even though for all intents and purposes, it's his now. "What those provisions are, I have no ... "

He stops talking. Fraser never stops talking in the middle of a sentence. He's staring at something in the wallet.

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	megthatcher 2009-01-30 09:11 pm UTC (link)
	"Fraser?" This is very atypical of him, to the point that she rises from the couch to peer at what he is looking at, rather than simply ordering him to show her. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	chicagomountie 2009-01-30 09:20 pm UTC (link)
	The wallet is snapped shut abruptly before her eyes alight on the content. "Sir?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	megthatcher 2009-01-30 09:21 pm UTC (link)
	"What were you looking at just now? And be specific. Don't just say 'this wallet.'" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	chicagomountie 2009-01-30 09:23 pm UTC (link)
	He looks back at her, tucking the wallet back into his pocket. "It's nothing, sir. As I was saying--" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	megthatcher 2009-01-30 09:26 pm UTC (link)
	"Constable Fraser, I have rarely seen you stop talking short of physical injury or interference from a Chicago detective." Her eyes narrow. "A wallet ... belonging to another person...." She is, after all, more than just a paperpusher. "You found a family photo, didn't you?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	chicagomountie 2009-01-30 09:30 pm UTC (link)
	"No." He stands there, immobile, looking at her. God, why can't he lie to save his life? Moments pass. The lie can't hold. His sense of personal ethics won't allow it. "Yes." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	megthatcher 2009-01-30 09:33 pm UTC (link)
	Thatcher nods. "It's all right, constable," she says quietly. "That's all I needed to know." She returns to the couch, attempting to restore a more professional atmosphere. "Have you--or has Diefenbaker--eaten lately? Do you have a place to stay?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

chicagomountie
2009-01-30 09:38 pm UTC (link)

He's not sure he can even think about food right now. There's a deep, profound sense of nausea creeping into his gut, and it's difficult to ignore. Diefenbaker's overly large stomach, however, can account for the two of them easily.

Focus on the facts. On right now. He clears his throat.

"Ah, it appears that this individual's home address is based in Toronto, sir, rather than somewhere locally. As for food, well, Diefenbaker ate rather well this morning."

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	megthatcher 2009-01-30 09:41 pm UTC (link)
	"Then you'll both stay here until other arrangements can be made. Such as a return home. Have you learned anything about that?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	chicagomountie 2009-01-30 09:47 pm UTC (link)
	"Ah." Fraser finds himself acutely missing his bedroll suddenly. With that, he can sleep anywhere - outside, in a hallway, wherever there's a flat enough surface. He has no idea how much space this safehouse affords. "I heard talk of something called 'Port Keys', sir, but I haven't had the opportunity to investigate further as of yet." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

megthatcher
2009-01-30 09:49 pm UTC (link)

"A task for another day, perhaps." She taps her chin thoughtfully, then rises from the couch. "I've had a chance to look around, so I'll give you the tour, such as it is."

The small kitchen is easily visible from the living room, especially since there is no wall, much less a door, to separate the two spaces. "The refrigerator and pantry appear to have been recently stocked," she notes.

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