021 - malcolm is a maudlin drunk.

[fuckitybye]

[Audio. Malcolm's Glaswegian accent has thickened considerably.]

What's the fucking point, yeah? Bein' a useless cunt out here in the fucking ... arse-end of the fucking universe, not a fucking friend in sight and your family gone and fucking ... superheroes and things'll rip your fucking throat out and ... this is supposed to help?

Fuck this cack-brained shit in the ear with a fucking screwdriver.

[Click. Audio off. He'll respond to anyone who feels like hassling him via journal, but some time later, anyone wandering up on deck will find Malcolm standing at the railing staring morosely off into the distance. In his left hand he clutches his useless Blackberry and this photograph. Feel free to come spam Malcolm and, if you dare, ask him about the photograph. Also, sorry for spamming with Malc posts this morning. Done now.]

Comments

[Action Spamalamadingdong]

[doeswhatido.livejournal.com]

[[Malcolm, do you hear those footsteps behind you? Of course not—they're rather inaudible, after all.

So it might be a little surprising when 47 turns up a few feet away, looking out at the view. He doesn't turn to Malcolm as he speaks.]]

What is it you see?

Re: [Action Spamalamadingdong]

[fuckitybye]

[AAAH FUCK. Be glad you didn't startle him enough to make him drop his Blackberry or the photo, 47, or you'd never hear the end of it. He slews around tipsily to glare at 47.]

What I see is a big fucking baldy creeper.

[doeswhatido.livejournal.com]

[[What is with all the drunks today? Must have been that water thing...a flood, they called it. But a drunk flood? How little sense did that positively make?

An eyebrow twitched at the 'creeper' comment. He wasn't creepy...was he? Nika hadn't seemed to think so, but. Well. Look at what you were raised to do and think on it again.]]

I think it's a requirement to be such a thing in one way or another if one's goal is to be able to pass through any security throughout the entirety of the world.

[fuckitybye]

[Scowl.]

Yeah well ... fucking cheers for you, Baldemort.

[doeswhatido.livejournal.com]

I'm reading that, you know.

[[He perks up a bit, gesturing with a finger before there's a small smile and is that...emotion in his eyes??? Something akin to sadness. Maybe. Because he's not Mister Emotional, it's hard to tell.]]

I need to finish the third book—Severus Snape let me borrow it. Of course, we're not to speak of it to Neville...but...[[A small laugh.]] I wouldn't've believed any of it if I hadn't watched him fix a bullet hole in a shirt and then remove all the caked in blood that'd been there for...gosh. A month?

[[Ah, might be clearer now. Neville. He likes the kid.....he just rarely admits it, even to himself.]]

[fuckitybye]

[Malc just shakes his head.]

This fucking place. Tell you fucking what, mate; I still swear sometimes I'm in a coma and someone's got a bunch of fucking ... audiobooks or something on. It'd explain a lot.

[doeswhatido.livejournal.com]

I'm not a book.

[[He looks over with a lopsided smile, tugs on his tie a bit to straighten it, and glances down.]]

You know Paddy? He says you can play as me in a video game for the X-Box and run around doing my job.