Untitled Frenchfic

Chapter Two: A Short,Wet, Interlude

by Alicia (aisumitsukai at home.com)

General Disclaimer


This really does have something to do with the plot, I promise!

Anyway, Maureen, thanks for your nitpicks, and please keep on with them; I'm going to overhaul the whole shebang once it's done and they come in very useful


If this were France, she would be sunbathing right now....

Deidre peered out the classroom window into grey sheets of rain, with a sour look. If this didn’t let up she’d get soaked just on the way to the hoverbus stop. Stellar. Blatantly ignoring the professor, she glanced across the room at the clock: half an hour left. She almost groaned aloud. It was time to take action. As inconspicuously as possible, she opened Graphicshop v15.6 on her screen, quickly rummaging through her bag for the stylus to her data pad, and settled down to doodle the class away.

Not like she was missing much: the professor was talking about the legal system of the early 20th century. She could just ask Mr. Holmes when he got back.

Now that she was properly occupied, the class passed quickly enough. The rain, however, did not. True to form, she spent the bus trip home wringing water out of her clothes and trying not to get it on any of the other passengers. Not an easy feat on the crowded New London transit system.

After fighting her way through the crowds to get off at the right stop, Deidre was pleasantly surprised to find the rain gone. Mind you, it didn’t make her feel any less saturated. Busy bemoaning her sponge-like state, Deidre found herself unceremoniously upended onto her backside by a surprised-looking woman, who hadn’t been looking where she was going either.

"Oof! Watch it, eh?" Her temper not improved by her damp clothes, Deidre glared up at the woman, picking herself up off the sidewalk, ignoring the proffered hand.

The woman’s expression quickly turned from apologetic to angry. "Watch it yourself, kid."

"Oi! First off, I’ve got a name. And second, I ain’t the mature adult ‘ere. It’s your fault for not being responsible!"

"No, you’re the misbehaving rebellious teenager, so it’s obviously your fault, because as a mature adult I wouldn’t play pranks like that." The woman was tall, she had almost thirty cm on Deidre, with straight dark brown hair and almond-shaped eyes to match. Hands on hips, she gave the impression of being very much in charge.

Disliking her on the spot, Deidre ungraciously thought that she’d get along well with the Inspector. The both of them were absolute witches. She took this back, however, when she remembered the Inspector’s promise of French underwear.

"Prank?" Deidre responded, hand pressed over her heart, every inch the abused victim. "I’m an innocent school girl on ‘er way home after a long, arduous day of putting ‘er ‘eart and soul into learning the ‘istory of this wonderful country we call ‘ome. An’ now, I’m being accused of playing pranks simply because a clumsy adult decided to take advantage of my mental fatigue!"

"Mental fatigue is right. What are you? A con artist?"

Deidre decided to change gears. "'Oo are you to be asking? I don’t even know yer name."

"Special Constable Akiko Morrison." SC Morrison pulled out a badge.

"Ah." Deidre grimaced mentally. "One of those volunteer people. Well, thanks very much fer being ever so helpful around the neighbourhood. I’m sure we all appreciate being knocked on our arses by Yardie wannabes -- much more prestigious then being knocked over by just any old bugger. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go tend to my failing aunt." Deidre brushed her self off and stuck her chin in the air.

As she sidestepped the unimpressed officer she heard her mutter. "If she’s had to deal with you on a regular basis, I’m surprised she’s still alive at all."

Bloody police, Deidre thought, all the bleeding same.

On to Chapter 3!

Back to Chapter 1

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