Bahorel laughs. "A proud occupation. I shall have cards made; Bahorel, cabbage thrower. If it comes to stockpiling ammunition, I suspect we all may have as many vegetables as we request; Bar only refuses to arm those who will not exercise such creativity." He considers the heavy bottles scattered around the room, and uncorks his own; the alcohol haze hovers over it, enticingly flammable. Bar doesn't make weapons, they'd said. "It does seem to be quite the peaceable settlement here, in spite of any police.-- No, you're right, let's make our aim as sure as we can before we begin firing. If we can't manage ourselves then the police are right, and I refuse to allow that."
He finds a glass and settles back into proper lounging on the floor. "As for this mysterious Head of Security--the only name I've heard so far is Mel Fray. I suspect I'm likely to meet her in the course of things, but I don't mind speaking with her before then."
A woman, and enough of a commander to make Gene Hunt squirm? No, he wouldn't mind speaking with her at all.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2014-11-21 02:11 pm (UTC)He finds a glass and settles back into proper lounging on the floor. "As for this mysterious Head of Security--the only name I've heard so far is Mel Fray. I suspect I'm likely to meet her in the course of things, but I don't mind speaking with her before then."
A woman, and enough of a commander to make Gene Hunt squirm? No, he wouldn't mind speaking with her at all.