![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
No True Pair Sept. 23 - Algy & Raymond
The posting schedule continues to have only the faintest acquaintance with the actual calendar. Also, these seem to be getting longer.
--
September Twenty-three - Algy & Raymond - push & pull
"I demand to know," Lacey began, storming into Raymond's office.
Raymond looked up at him, laying his reading spectacles aside, and Lacey had enough sense of propriety to fall quiet. After all these years, it was startling how little he had changed from the 17-year-old boy he had been when Raymond first met him. There was a not-inconsiderable amount of grey in his unruly dark-blond curls, fine creases around the clear brown eyes, but he still wore that innate look of startled surprise, as if the world was both a source of amazement and constant trials to him.
What had come with the years, though, was a confidence he had never possessed as a younger man. It was extremely inconvenient at times, such as this one, when he pulled out a chair and settled in it.
Raymond thoughtfully sized him up. It was impossible to avoid noticing that he looked deeply unwell, bright spots of colour on both pale cheeks.
"Demand?" Raymond asked mildly, after a moment.
"I respectfully request to know where Biggles is."
"I expect that he spoke to you before he left, so very likely you already know a few things." Bigglesworth had been under strict orders to keep his mission instructions under his hat, but at the same time Raymond had been well aware that there was no order he could give that would stop Bigglesworth from talking it over with his best friend, even when Lacey was in the throes of a brutal flu. And, in all honesty, Raymond wouldn't have wanted him to. At the very least he guessed it was more than his always tenuous control over his chief operational pilot was worth to try.
"Yes, he's undercover behind the Iron Curtain," Lacey said impatiently. "And he's a day overdue, I know he was supposed to be back yesterday. Have you heard anything? Is he hurt?"
"I understand you're off for the week."
"I'm catching up on paperwork," Lacey said defensively. He leaned forward. Even the hot edge of fever in his eyes didn't diminish their sharp clarity. "I know you won't lie to me. But I haven't forgotten we've been here before, and I -- I'm not going to sit at home while Biggles lies in a cellar for a week with a bullet wound, not this time. I can accept that it's necessity in wartime, but he's a civilian now."
Raymond could have pointed out that they were in another war this time, an ideological one, in which Bigglesworth had voluntarily enlisted. But he tried not to pull that sort of plausible-deniability shell games with Biggesworth's crew, in large part because he knew they were the best thing he'd ever stumbled into in his entire career, and they could be just as easily lost as gained. There were those at the Home Office who would have squandered them already, and there were a lot of times he'd skirted the edge of his career over battles on their behalf that they would never know about.
"Coffee or tea?" he asked in a mild tone. "You look as if a cup of tea would be the better choice. In fact it's near enough teatime not to matter, you look like you could use something to eat as well."
"I -- uh -- yes, all right." Lacey seemed caught off guard, clearly having come in spoiling for a fight. Now he didn't know where to direct that energy. Good, Raymond thought; hopefully in an hour he could be safely decanted for a nap in the back office before he rushed off to stage a rescue mission. In the meantime, however, Raymond suspected that hustling him out of the office would have the opposite of the desired effect. He picked up the intercom telephone.
"Fran, tea for two please, I'll have my usual. Cheese sandwich all right?" he asked Lacey, who gave a vaguely confused nod. "Two cheese and one ham. Thank you." Raymond hung up and said to Lacey, "I've never been opposed to talking shop over food. Not the most congenial surroundings, I know, but I'm expecting a call from the Spanish ambassador and I'd rather not be out of the office, if it's all the same to you."
"Is that a question? Yes, of course, I -- I don't mind," Lacey said, looking dazed. "Thank you," he added somewhat belatedly.
"How are you feeling? I know you've been under the weather." It occurred to him that he should have checked in sooner. It was only that he'd been busy, the week had got away from him, but it seemed a regrettable oversight to him now. Bigglesworth would certainly have asked after Lacey first thing, if he missed the rendezvous. Anyway, he also wondered on Lacey's own behalf.
"On the mend. It's really just Biggles mother-henning as he does, there's nothing wrong with me except --" He interrupted himself with a violent coughing fit. Raymond rose to fetch him a glass of water, which was interrupted in turn by the girl from the canteen coming in with two made-to-order cups of tea and a pot.
"The sandwiches and the rest is on the way up, sir. I know Elise made sure some of those little jam biscuits were included."
The people who worked for him knew him well. "Thank you, Fran. Drink your tea," he added as Fran left, observing with an almost paternal air as Lacey sipped it and scowled at the world in general. "There's paracetamol in my desk drawer if you need any. I've worked through more than one nasty cold myself. Now, settle in and I'll tell you exactly where Bigglesworth is, if you're prepared to listen."
Ficlet master list in this post
--
September Twenty-three - Algy & Raymond - push & pull
"I demand to know," Lacey began, storming into Raymond's office.
Raymond looked up at him, laying his reading spectacles aside, and Lacey had enough sense of propriety to fall quiet. After all these years, it was startling how little he had changed from the 17-year-old boy he had been when Raymond first met him. There was a not-inconsiderable amount of grey in his unruly dark-blond curls, fine creases around the clear brown eyes, but he still wore that innate look of startled surprise, as if the world was both a source of amazement and constant trials to him.
What had come with the years, though, was a confidence he had never possessed as a younger man. It was extremely inconvenient at times, such as this one, when he pulled out a chair and settled in it.
Raymond thoughtfully sized him up. It was impossible to avoid noticing that he looked deeply unwell, bright spots of colour on both pale cheeks.
"Demand?" Raymond asked mildly, after a moment.
"I respectfully request to know where Biggles is."
"I expect that he spoke to you before he left, so very likely you already know a few things." Bigglesworth had been under strict orders to keep his mission instructions under his hat, but at the same time Raymond had been well aware that there was no order he could give that would stop Bigglesworth from talking it over with his best friend, even when Lacey was in the throes of a brutal flu. And, in all honesty, Raymond wouldn't have wanted him to. At the very least he guessed it was more than his always tenuous control over his chief operational pilot was worth to try.
"Yes, he's undercover behind the Iron Curtain," Lacey said impatiently. "And he's a day overdue, I know he was supposed to be back yesterday. Have you heard anything? Is he hurt?"
"I understand you're off for the week."
"I'm catching up on paperwork," Lacey said defensively. He leaned forward. Even the hot edge of fever in his eyes didn't diminish their sharp clarity. "I know you won't lie to me. But I haven't forgotten we've been here before, and I -- I'm not going to sit at home while Biggles lies in a cellar for a week with a bullet wound, not this time. I can accept that it's necessity in wartime, but he's a civilian now."
Raymond could have pointed out that they were in another war this time, an ideological one, in which Bigglesworth had voluntarily enlisted. But he tried not to pull that sort of plausible-deniability shell games with Biggesworth's crew, in large part because he knew they were the best thing he'd ever stumbled into in his entire career, and they could be just as easily lost as gained. There were those at the Home Office who would have squandered them already, and there were a lot of times he'd skirted the edge of his career over battles on their behalf that they would never know about.
"Coffee or tea?" he asked in a mild tone. "You look as if a cup of tea would be the better choice. In fact it's near enough teatime not to matter, you look like you could use something to eat as well."
"I -- uh -- yes, all right." Lacey seemed caught off guard, clearly having come in spoiling for a fight. Now he didn't know where to direct that energy. Good, Raymond thought; hopefully in an hour he could be safely decanted for a nap in the back office before he rushed off to stage a rescue mission. In the meantime, however, Raymond suspected that hustling him out of the office would have the opposite of the desired effect. He picked up the intercom telephone.
"Fran, tea for two please, I'll have my usual. Cheese sandwich all right?" he asked Lacey, who gave a vaguely confused nod. "Two cheese and one ham. Thank you." Raymond hung up and said to Lacey, "I've never been opposed to talking shop over food. Not the most congenial surroundings, I know, but I'm expecting a call from the Spanish ambassador and I'd rather not be out of the office, if it's all the same to you."
"Is that a question? Yes, of course, I -- I don't mind," Lacey said, looking dazed. "Thank you," he added somewhat belatedly.
"How are you feeling? I know you've been under the weather." It occurred to him that he should have checked in sooner. It was only that he'd been busy, the week had got away from him, but it seemed a regrettable oversight to him now. Bigglesworth would certainly have asked after Lacey first thing, if he missed the rendezvous. Anyway, he also wondered on Lacey's own behalf.
"On the mend. It's really just Biggles mother-henning as he does, there's nothing wrong with me except --" He interrupted himself with a violent coughing fit. Raymond rose to fetch him a glass of water, which was interrupted in turn by the girl from the canteen coming in with two made-to-order cups of tea and a pot.
"The sandwiches and the rest is on the way up, sir. I know Elise made sure some of those little jam biscuits were included."
The people who worked for him knew him well. "Thank you, Fran. Drink your tea," he added as Fran left, observing with an almost paternal air as Lacey sipped it and scowled at the world in general. "There's paracetamol in my desk drawer if you need any. I've worked through more than one nasty cold myself. Now, settle in and I'll tell you exactly where Bigglesworth is, if you're prepared to listen."
Ficlet master list in this post
no subject
no subject
... he still wore that innate look of startled surprise, as if the world was both a source of amazement and constant trials to him.
I love (and fully believe) that Algy's default expression after 40+ years of Biggles exposure can best be summed up as, "Oh god what now?!"
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Raymond has A+ Biggles-handling skills, but this also extends to the other members of the team; he just doesn't get a chance to pull it out very often. :D And the most important factor, of course, is that he really likes them!
no subject
no subject