i hate them. no one look at this

[recalcitrare]

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[recalcitrare]

[Off the Chief Coordinator goes, to visit his human contractor on her barbaric version of Earth. Which in and of itself is bizarre. He's barely been off-world since his promotion -- and Zeta is confident in this, despite the fact that he doesn't know his every move, because there's hardly anyone else he'd trust to play surveillance for him -- and to visit a human? On an irradiated planet? Needless to say, Zeta is going to be watching what happens very closely, instead of letting Narvin carry on in peace and privacy. ... except this little expedition has proven so entertaining that he couldn't resist turning it into a drinking game. And now both he and Fevrain are thoroughly soused.] Rassilon, Omega, and the Other. I cannot believe, [Zeta positively giggles into his bottle.]

[reformedcriminal]

[Fevrain blinks slow and lazily, relaxed from the repeated drinks.]

Do you know, I'm starting to suspect that this isn't truly a business trip at all.

[recalcitrare]

[That causes Zeta to upgrade to sniggers.] You think? [He makes a sweeping gesture towards the monitors.] No, I think the worst part is that he doesn't realize. We knew he was dense, but I don't think we thought he was this dense.

[reformedcriminal]

Oh, I knew he was this dense. I tried to flirt with him back when we were in training together and he didn't notice for weeks.

[Fevrain leans back in his chair and props his feet up on the computer banks, long legs stretched out.]

Shall we wager on how long it takes him to realize that he wants to play House with a human?

[recalcitrare]

Absolutely. [Zeta turns his chair this way and that as he thinks (because he made sure to bring his personal chair to this ordeal, so it spins).] Mmmmm... I'd like to have faith that he's smarter than this, but I really don't suspect he'll figure it out before he leaves. And neither do you, so that's not a good enough wager.

[reformedcriminal]

Hmm, and I'm sure kissing will never occur to him either.

I kissed him once. He looked at me as if I were an attacking Dalek and then he fled.

[recalcitrare]

[Zeta barks out a laugh of surprise.] Did you? When did you get the opportunity to do that? And what possessed you to go for it? [A beat. He waves a hand dismissively.] Insert typical threat if you attempt it again, et cetera. [He feels the obligation to pretend to be an overprotective parent, but is too lazy at the moment to put his hearts into it.]

[reformedcriminal]

That was the culmination of the weeks of flirting in vain with his utter obliviousness. I thought if I kissed him he'd finally get the hint. Which he did. And then promptly turned me down. We became friends after that.

[After Narvin came back and shouted at him for a while, calling him a crazy harlot. It hadn't even been very much of a kiss, just a light brush of lips. ]

I had to assure him that I wouldn't kiss him again. So your obligatory threat is unnecessary. I won't sully the poor man again.

[recalcitrare]

[Zeta laughs again -- cackles, more like, and for a good moment. He can just imagine the look on Narvin's face.] Well, at least that makes my life easier. Less work for me.

[reformedcriminal]

I'll find some way to make it up to you and create work for you elsewhere.

[He prides himself on being the best irritating friend Zeta could have.]

[recalcitrare]

I'd protest, but I know you're going to do it anyway, so there's hardly any point in it.

[reformedcriminal]

[Ferran smirks.]

I'm glad to see I've trained you well.

[recalcitrare]

Trained? Hardly. This is me picking and choosing my battles.

[recalcitrare]

[Rassilon, Omega, and the Other. Narvin and Elle actually made genuine progress. Elle, in having realized her true feelings for Narvin and (shockingly) making the leap to confessing them to him... and Narvin, in not having immediately turned her away -- in recognizing that there's a possibility he might just feel the same. He'd bloody well better figure it out, Zeta had grumbled into his bottle, after he's gone and caused a grandfather paradox on her behalf, the idiot. But after all the threats from Elle's "family," all the bantering and bickering and long, drawn out conversations about emotions that Narvin's likely never going to want to have again, the Coordinator and his human are off pretending like nothing happened. Figures. Off having an adventure in the terrible, mutated, irradiated wasteland the human calls home. Unfortunately, they're also leaving Zeta having lost a bet to Fevrain. When Elle had stuttered to a halt mid-word the previous day, a new betting pool promptly opened: had she finally figured out she felt something for Narvin? Zeta didn't think so. She'd certainly proved herself thick enough previously. But Fevrain sided against him, and... he was right. And now the interesting parts are over, as Narvin and Elle are now preparing their supplies for their trip out into the desert, so there's no putting it off.] Alright, [Zeta sighs, leaning back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him,] you won that one. What do you want?

[reformedcriminal]

[Fevrain drums his long fingers on the edge of the computer console in thought. He knows what he wants, the question in his mind is what route to take to get it. The straight path is dull and uninteresting and he'd rather play first.]

So open ended. Are you sure you don't want to place stipulations?

[recalcitrare]

I feel like I really should, but that's never how this has worked before. [Usually, the stipulations don't need to be stated. They're always correctly assumed.] But you'll be pleased to know the fact that you're asking fills me with dread.

[reformedcriminal]

I want you to help me steal a TARDIS.

[Fevrain says it casually, as if it's no great trouble.]

[recalcitrare]

Alright, fine, that is off the table. Nothing that jeopardizes our lives or our livelihoods or that of my family's, you miscreant.

[reformedcriminal]

Spoilsport.

[Fevrain leans back in his chair.]

What if, for my prize, I wanted you to shave your head? [He doesn't want that, but he wants to see how Zeta reacts to that.]

[recalcitrare]

Please, I don't for a microspan believe that's actually what you want.

And even if you did, I wouldn't do it.

[reformedcriminal]

True. Then I'd have nothing to hold on to.

[He spreads his knees a little in invitation.]

[recalcitrare]

[... Rassilon.

They haven't done anything else since their... since they... well. Since Zeta finally caved to Fevrain. They settled immediately back to normality: drinking and snarking. There's been the occasional comment, a little back and forth with less restraint than normal, but otherwise...

But it's hardly as though the thought hasn't crossed his mind. They're stuck in here until Narvin decides his vacation is over. They have plenty of time.

His eyes flick over Fevrain's form, but he keeps his voice casual as he drawls,] Is that supposed to be a hint?

[reformedcriminal]

[Fevrain smirks.]

It's good to know that you aren't as oblivious as our esteemed Chief Coordinator.

[recalcitrare]

[Zeta snorts.] Please. Don't insult me.

[He sits up and inputs a few commands into the console and turns up a few settings. He wants to be absolutely certain they don't miss anything, because, again, if something happens to Narvin because he's letting his (long neglected) libido get the better of him...

It only takes a couple of nanospans, then he turns to Fevrain, one hand reaching over to rest on his knee. Still playing casual to hide his nerves, he says,] You realize you don't have to win a bet to convince me to do this, don't you?

[reformedcriminal]

I should hope it wouldn't take much convincing at all.

[He tilts back his head, stretching out his throat. He wants to see if he can get Zeta to tell him how attractive he is, how desirable.]