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]

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. ]

[enarms]

Alright for some. [ it's okay... he's not (very) bitter. just playing. ] Nevermind. We've all had more than enough excitement since.

[ God knows. even John's ready for a break - maybe even a longterm break - and that takes some real work. none of which is what he came here to talk about, especially not sober, so after catching himself it's time to set this conversation back on the right rails: ]

Peckham then?

[tailorable]

Yeah. My whole life.

[ well, since his father died, but that seems a bit much to mention now. ]

How’d you end up on Baker Street?

[ inheritance, luck — ]

[enarms]

[ John huffs a laugh, because yeah. takes a bit to go from a barely pension-funded shit little bedsit somewhere considerably less affluent to - well. where he's ended up. ]

Friend of mine rents a flat there. Well— he wasn't a friend at the time. We were both looking for a flatmate and a mutual friend introduced us. I went to have a look, we had a bit of a mad day and I moved in at the end of it.

[ and the pace of that about sums up the rest of his life on planet Earth, short as it ultimately was. and, because that doesn't actually do all that much to clarify how Baker Street - ]

He got it cheap. Did the landlady a favour.

[tailorable]

[ john’s story is vague, but it conveys the vibe of his life well, startling a laugh out of eggsy. ]

It all sounds a bit mad. [ the pace, the day, the favour. he hesitates. then, ] Try not to choke — [ on the pint. ] — but I ended up snagging a job on Savile Row a few months before the world ended, so I can’t really judge.

[ perhaps life had gotten a bit mad for everyone, near the end. ]

[enarms]

[ John manages not to choke on the pint, but it's perhaps only because of the warning. not bad, really, either of them. ]

Savile Row? Jesus. Thought you had to be descended from a line of elite shoemakers to even stand a chance of setting foot behind a register. [ a raise of his glass, because really: ] Well done.

[tailorable]

[ he likes that john gets it, even if it's not the same perspective. ]

Thanks, bruv. Same to you. [ following the clink of their glasses, eggsy knocks back the majority of his pint and catches the bartender's attention, throwing up two fingers to order another round. better keep up, john!! ] Y'know, you might be the only person who understands half the shit that I say.

[ let alone what he simply implies. it's an oblique way of saying he appreciates their meeting already. god, that's bizarre. ]

[enarms]

[ well, shit, if we're drinking drinking. John chugs down a few swallows, levels his glass out to somewhere a bit more acceptable with another on the way.

it is good, though. to be able to name a place and know it. to hear savile row and think jesus instead of okay? John grins, takes another gulp for good measure. ]

Yeah. Well, you might be the only person who says anything I can actually understand. [ so that's a mutual satisfaction. ] Glad it's a small multiverse.

[ did Rosalind enlighten him to the term? did he take it off of Doctor Who? mysteries. ]

[tailorable]

[ it sounds like science fiction, but there are plenty of people in his life now would term it the same way. small multiverse, indeed.

his answering beam is enough to communicate me, too. ]

You got a job like the one you had at home, yeah? [ hard for someone to pick up medicine upon arriving on this planet, after all. ] I've seen you broadcasting about the Sanctuary, so I just assumed Doctor, but...

[ but he doesn't exactly know, apart from Peggy describing him as a medical professional. ]

[enarms]

[ ah. the job always comes up, and he's close to the point that he can't be bothered to be awkward about it, but - hm. ]

Sort of. I'm the in-house doctor at Shades Darker.

[ army surgeon to occasional GP to brothel doctor, funny how these things go. for now, he doesn't bother to clarify that he also occupied a slightly less medically-motivated position back home - in a minute, maybe. ]

[tailorable]

[ trying not to snicker, but he's only a Lad... ]

Don't tell me you're living that reality show where people go to A&E with all kinds of shit stuck up their arses.

[enarms]

[ God. on the plus side, it could definitely have been worse. he's laughing, it's fine. ]

Thankfully, no. Definitely had my fill of that working A&E. The good thing about working at a brothel is everybody already knows how to have sex safely. [ John drains the rest of his first glass, pushes it across the bar for an easy collect. ] Mostly I'm patching up the messes the security staff make of the punters who push their luck.

[tailorable]

[ just in time for the second round, Watson. the two glasses arrive, and Eggsy immediately lifts his pint with his left hand. ]

Least it isn't boring, then. [ unlike being a typical doctor, maybe. he leans forward in obvious interest. ] What's the wildest shit you've seen working there?

[ sounds like there are some savage fights. ]

[enarms]

[ it's better than a GP surgery job any day, that's for sure. huh, though - the question gives him pause. John takes a second to pluck a particularly good one out of the memory banks—

huffs a close-mouthed laugh. got it. ]

Still to this day don't know exactly what happened to start it all, but I walked out of my office to one of the models haring down the corridor wielding a [ - ahem - ] cat-o-nine-tails. Usually recreational, not so much that day. Got a good few lashes in on this arsehole before security turned up.