001 - Voice

[fuckitybye]

[Prior to this, anyone near Malcom's room (level 7, room 5) will have heard him banging about in confusion for a bit; as his cabin looks like his office at No. 10, that's where he thinks he is. Then, in an attempt to page his assistant, he accidentally turns on the voice posting device and a loud Scottish voice is heard:]

—Sam? SAM? The fuck is up with putting a bed in here? This some kind of fucking joke? I can ream out that twat Nicholson just fine with him bent over my fucking desk, aye?

[Pause.]

Sam?

Oh, for fuck's sake—

[Sound of door opening. Long, stunned silence.]

What the fuck?

Comments

[naughtbutlife.livejournal.com]

[And she's relieved - so very, very, very relieved, but still a bit on the shaken side.

Angelica's not terribly pleased to see her husband reaching for his sword as he stomps down the corridor, as that wasn't very neighbourly at all. She does, however, stifle an amused snicker before she thumps Sexby in the chest for his words.]

Our mistake, sir. You have the face of a king. A very...unfortunate monarch by name of Charles. Come, Sexby, before we cause him further bewilderment.

[She pushes Sexby inside before he can say another word.] Oh...uh...welcome to the Barge, sir. Good-day. [A quick bow, and then she slams the door shut again.]

[fuckitybye]

[Right, Malcolm knows his history. He knows who Charles I was. He sort of scrubs his hand over his face in angry bewilderment and raises his fist to pound on the door again, but, for once, thinks better of it.]

Fucking hell. Devils and fucking pitchforks would've been easier to understand.

[And he goes back to his room.]