text, u.n: j.watson

[enarms]

He looks cute but he's a thieving little shit. If you've lost anything small over the last few weeks, sorry. I'll bring it back if you get in touch.

[ is this John Watson, posting photos of his ferret to soothe the masses? it might be. but he also genuinely does have a room full of trinkets that don't belong to him, and there are also a few attached images here of all the things his little tyke of an animal has thieved while John's been otherwise engaged.

(but mostly he's just hanging out with a long fluff, finding it therapeutic and wants to share the feeling - and hey, sooner or later somebody has to get back to pretending nothing's happening and treating the network like a Facebook wall. why not him?) ]

(( ooc: feel free to chime in with "that X in the picture is mine"/"do you have my Y?" etc if you fancy it! basic guidelines are if a ferret could feasibly carry it, this ferret could feasibly have stolen it. ))

Comments

[tailorable]

fucking hell
sorry mate that's hilarious
i've literally never met someone who ACCIDENTALLY got an asbo

[enarms]

You're welcome, I'll give you a signature if you like

It was the National Gallery too. If you're going to get somebody else's ASBO, might as well do it in style.

[tailorable]

shit that's ballsy
tagging just north of the river's gotten a bit dicey. can't imagine going off at the national.

[ sometimes it's easy to forget that london is gone, along with the rest of the planet. ]

whereabouts are you from?

[enarms]

[ it's an interesting unifier, a shared world. once upon a time, John might have needled after the implications behind tagging just north of the river's gotten a bit dicey. now, it's just nice to hear from someone with intimate knowledge of anything from home, especially London. ]

Chelmsford originally. London now, West End. Baker Street. You?

[ now being relative, but that's fine. ]

[tailorable]

[ oh, he had him pegged as posh but Baker Street. my oh my. this might be the only time outside of Kingsman that Eggsy considers himself to share anything with some uptown doctor type. ]

peckham.
small (end of) world i guess.

[is he allowed to joke about that?? too late. ]

[enarms]

What year?

[ since we've climbed over the "the world's dead" hurdle now, might as well do a time check. ]

[tailorable]

2014. you?

[enarms]

2012. God, that's refreshing.

[tailorable]

[ !!! ]

reckon we’ve got the most overlap of anyone i’ve met so far
which ain’t saying much when half the english accents around here are faux brits from ren faires or outer space

[ apologies to the westerosi and space english xoxo but c’mon ]

[enarms]

Don't, they get me every time.

[ oh!!!! a brit!!!! oh no she's a literal olde worlde pirate. a brit!!!!!! no, a magician from somewhere dragons happen. a brit!!!!!! YES. from the 1800s, can teleport. fuck. ]


Jesus. London within 2 years. What are the chances, really

[tailorable]

couldn’t do the maths even if i wanted to

[ it must be infinitesimal. they could even be from the same London, at this rate — probably not, of course — but it’s a nice thought. ]

i’m eggsy unwin.
it’s really good to meet you

[ what an oddly reassuring thing it is to meet someone from home (as good as, anyway). ]

[enarms]

John Watson. Likewise.

Pub sort?

[ some people aren't the Pub Sort, but if Eggsy is? it's an open invite. John'll buy him a drink for existing ]

[tailorable]

fuck yes.
let me know when you want a break from managing the lost and found.

[enarms]

If we were going by want I’d have been at the pub three hours ago.

Meet in a couple of hours? I’m hoping you’re Olympia-based

[tailorable]

are any of the proper brits in wyver?

[ the jungle isn't their style. ]

i'll be around then

[enarms]

Great. [ insert his favourite pub's name here ]? It's a few streets south of the marketplace.

[tailorable]

good shout.
my guard shift ends at 6
& i've got an adidas snapback on btw

[ for recognition purposes. ]

[enarms]

[ christ... peak london lad, incredible. ]

Thanks. I'll see you there

[tailorable]

[ just u wait. ]

see ya 👌

[ he shows up slightly late in guard blacks (ft. a gold olympia pin on the collar) and, as promised, the adidas snapback. otherwise, he appears to be in decent shape barring the bandages on his right hand that continue up under his sleeve, not unlike miss carter's injury. ]

[enarms]

[ well, he's certainly not difficult to spot. John waves upon seeing him, already propping up the bar and sipping at a house ale. there's another sitting in wait, and John pushes it vaguely in Eggsy's direction: it's his. ]

Eggsy? [ slightly overprounced, "Egg-see." ] Hi.

[tailorable]

[ Eggsy brightens when John waves him over, settling in beside him. god bless him — John even looks English. ]

Eggsy. [ more of an echo than a correction, given that he's accustomed to far worse pronunciations. he tips his pint toward John. ] Cheers, mate. I'll get the next round.

[ welcome back to the wild world of drinking. ]

[enarms]

[ that is... quite possibly the best, most reassuring sentence he's heard since he's been here. it's enough that he actually lets out a small, surprised laugh. ]

Yeah, good. [ sounds good. it's been a while, but there's no time like the present for getting back to it. a sip, and John props himself back against the bar to give Eggsy a look over. notes the bandages - notes also to ask later. a drink or two in them before they drag back to the couple of weeks they've all had

back in London, would he ever has shared a pint with Eggsy, or anyone with his taste in hats? no. really very probably not. but God knows he's happy to meet him now. ] —Can't believe we haven't met before. You been awake long?

[ how long have we two almost time-synced englishmen passed like ships in the really horrible night ]

[tailorable]

[ it's certainly weird to be enthused to meet someone like john — and weirder to have the enthusiasm returned. not bad, though, not at all. it very briefly reminds him of harry taking him to the black prince, but he quickly dismisses the thought. ]

Me either. [ seriously because: ] Only about eight fucking months. [ he pulls a face. 'course he'd say too long, but given that he'll be here... forever, presumably... that seems grim. and the reassurance of meeting someone like him, in some way, brings his smile back. ] You?

[enarms]

[ for what it's worth, John's also the sort to have to bite his tongue against a "too long". this place just isn't the one for tired Englishpeople prone to having had enough after being flung to crash land on an alien planet from space only to become embroiled in a vastly unstable political landscape the likes of which usually stays well enough clear of their little island home. ]

Around that, yeah. Were you about when they dropped us out of the station in waves like meteor showers full of people?

[ or has he been here even longer than eight months... Christ. also, he's innocently smiling his way through that question, because their lives are a mess and what other option is there but to laugh. ]

[tailorable]

[ he takes a swig of his drink. ]

Nah, I was in the group right after. [ he tips his head, smile turning apologetic. ] Woke up on the station in August and then all we had to do was a bit of hand-holding.

[ the second wave of arrivals was luckiest of the bunch, really. ]