ooc;

GODDAMNIT WRITER'S BLOCK STOP SUCKING.

In theory, I could join prompt comms or something, but, really, I already fail enough at those with Martha.

Also, I need to post a log for alwaysbrilliant sometime today. B| AND SOMEONE SHOULD DO SOMETHING WITH DUKE.

rp; for alwaysbrilliant

Gene was tired, and that made him irritable - well, more irritable than usual. He'd hardly got any sleep after dropping that red-headed bint off last night, mainly because he'd spent his time wondering how anybody could be so daft. Finally, he'd had a nice little nightcap, and that had helped him settle down and go to bed - but later than he'd meant to.

"Chris!" he barked at his DC. "Go down th' cells an' pay our dear friend Mr Acton a visit, will you? Ask 'im why 'is cronies weren' where 'e said they'd be. I want this soddin' drug ring brought in now, before the 'igher-ups start breathin' down my neck wi'out takin' a breathmint first, understand?"

Chris nodded his assent and quickly slunk out of the CID offices, knowing after ten long years of working with Gene that it was better to be somewhere else when he was in a mood. Ray followed him with a glance back at Gene, but he let him go; Chris was too soft by half on the blokes he interrogated. He'd followed Tyler's habits, didn't intimidate them properly. Still, for all his faults (like not being overly bright, for one), the lad would make a promising copper someday. If he survived that long.

"WPC Granger, where the 'ell is my brew?" he shouted, though Shaz was nowhere in sight. Honestly, women. Couldn't be trusted to make a cup of bloody tea in the morning.