Disclaimer: The PPC belongs to Jay and Acacia. We are not them, but we do have permission to write in their world. The Pirates of the Caribbean films belong to Disney. The All-HQ Australian Indoor-Rules Quiddich League is the invention of Trojie and JulyFlame. KGarrett's Agents, the number of whom has grown large enough that he'll soon just be linking to a list of them or something when he does this part of the disclaimer, belong to him. Luke Celinus belongs to Cassie Cameron-Young, and is used in this mission because we wanted to co-write one and Cassie thought him the most suitable. Jessie Lancaster, who is mentioned but not featured, also belongs to Cassie. None of them may be used without our permission (we probably will give permission, provided we are allowed to make sure you keep them in character, but you still need to ask).
This mission takes place on 1 April 2009. The fic up for exorcism, Love in a Storm, belongs to The Pirate King of Shipwreck, and neither of us want it. A big thank you to tea_fiend for betaing this mission. Fic excerpts are in bold.
Warnings: Some language, and mild violence in one section. Nothing at all graphic.
The door to Response Centre 5593 opened quietly, for once. No surprises, no Quiddich League practices leaving the place utterly destroyed, just an empty room. Marcus closed the door behind him once he flicked on the lights, walking over to one of the beds and sitting down on it while he looked around. Luckily, it hadn't taken him too long after he'd got back from pawning off those hammerspace knives before he'd managed to clean up the RC to a point where it was somewhat presentable again, though there was still a sizeable dent in one of the walls and it was obvious someone had whacked his Console with a bat. Even with his Response Centre finally not looking like a war zone, though, something didn't feel right; the whole thing seemed off without Zodfang there.
Unused to a totally quiet RC, Marcus couldn't help but think that the atmosphere was rather oppressive without his boisterous partner around yelling about whatever. Of course, the new partner Upstairs was supposed to give him, while Zodfang recovered from the surgery Medical had performed to correct the damage done to him in their last mission together, had yet to get out of training, so Marcus had been forced to work solo on just about every mission since the Sallas debacle; needless to say, the missions since that one had proven a bit more difficult without a partner. Not having found a willing adopter, Marcus noticed that the minis they'd brought back from the M*A*S*H mission were still running around, but he didn't react to them even when Chaplin decided to bound up onto the bed and rest on his leg.
"Stupid bloody Ork, getting himself beaten up like that." Neither of the two Agents had expected a bit character to put up such a fight, and the result was that Zodfang, even though he'd killed Jose Sallas and finished the mission, had been out of action ever since. The Ork had taken rather severe damage to his back and ribs, and there were a number of broken bones in his face from the punches he'd taken, all of which carried over when his disguise was taken off. Taking Zodfang to Medical, they'd found out that he would have to be operated on in order to correct all the damage, though it had taken a while for them to scrounge up someone with enough knowledge of Ork biology to perform surgery without killing him. Medical's resident Igor had proved well up to the task, relishing the challenge of new biology to work on.
Orks were ludicrously resilient, so it had been expected that Zodfang would recover relatively quickly, but over a week later he was still in the ward with rather ridiculous security measures in place to make sure he didn't just up and leave. Every time Marcus had visited, Zodfang was strapped down to a bed, kept under sedation, and his bed had a group of four DIA agents posted around it. Each of the DIA agents was armed with a rifle loaded with tranquiliser darts, the payload supposedly powerful enough to knock out even a dragon in seconds if given the chance. Marcus thought all of the precautions were a bit excessive for an Agent just out of surgery, even one with the savage power of an Ork, but nobody really paid him any mind.
To say that his partner's extended stay in Medical was the only thing on his mind would likely be a lie, but he was distracted by a persistent knocking on the door before he could dwell much longer in his own thoughts. Patting Chaplin on the mini-P.A.'s head-analogue, he looked up to the door. "It's not locked," he said, his tone curt but not exactly rude. Mostly, he was just wondering who had decided to bother him at this time.
The door opened, and in came a tall, muscular man who sported auburn hair, a huge grin and a black cloth covering the place where his left eye should have been. "I knew it!" he exclaimed on seeing Marcus sitting on the bed. "Big Murphy said he'd just seen you in the store! When the hell did you get back into HQ, you sneaky beggar?" He strode across the room and offered his hand. "Damn good to see you back, anyway, Marcus."
"Well I'll be damned," Marcus said, getting to his feet with a wide grin. Walking over to the man, he grabbed his hand firmly, giving a vigorous shake as he spoke. "You should talk, I've been looking all over for ya! How the hell've ya been, Luke? You and Jessie still together?"
"Yeah, we're still partnered," Luke sighed theatrically. "Apart from that, I've been as good as you can expect. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Still, I want to know when you got back. I haven't heard a thing since they suspended you, and nobody else seemed to have heard much, either." He looked down as one of the minis nudged at his leg. "And when did you start collecting minis?"
"Did a mission in M*A*S*H a week or so back," Marcus explained, shrugging as he nudged Mulchady back, only to be greeted with a sharp squeal. "On top of everything else, the bitch created a lot of minis, and nobody seems to want them. The Sue's weapons were a lot more popular, Big Murphy paid a lot for the whole set. Would you believe me if I said they reinstated me at Christmas, and immediately gave me a double mission to some Stufics that were literally incomprehensible?"
Luke winced. "Ouch. That's gotta hurt. It wasn't those Halo fics by any chance, was it? The ones by squirrelkid, or something? I remember hearing about them from someone in Intelligence. Told her at the time I felt sorry for whoever ended up with 'em, especially after she showed me the actual stories."
A sheepish nod from Marcus told Luke that he'd guessed right, but the man spoke anyway. "Yeah, squirrelking's, those're the ones. Zodfang and I almost shot our Console when we got invited to that Christmas party as soon as we got back, though I'm surprised we could even go. The headache those fics caused qualified as a hangover in its own right; I still refuse to believe he's not a troll."
"I wouldn't be surprised." Luke shrugged, looking around. "Though we both know there are plenty of kids who just don't know how to write coherently." He eyed the console curiously. "What happened in here? Somebody hear your console beeping and try to kill it?"
"Close. You know that All-HQ Australian Indoor-Rules Quiddich League thing? Zodfang made a team, stupid Ork decided to prac-"
"...Well, I know I'd like to kill it."
Having barely flinched when the console went off, Luke nodded. "I can see why. Zodfang's your partner, then, I take it. Where's he got to? Beaten up in a game? I hear they're nasty." He glanced over at the console again in case it thought it was being ignored.
Marcus shook his head, making his way over to the console to bring up the mission readout and report, though he had to weave around the hyperactive minis to do so. "Nah, season hasn't started yet. It was the last mission we did together, the one where we got these minis," he said. "I sent him after a bit character who was leaving the fic, while I stalked the Sue, and he got the crap beaten out of him. Bit must've got the drop on him or something; still died, but really worked Zodfang over. Really messed up his back and ribs, so badly they needed to perform surgery. He's still in Medical, you wouldn't believe the measures they have in place to keep him from just getting up and trying to walk out with his injuries."
The younger man winced at the description of the injuries, and shook his head. "That must have been one hell of a bit character. Still, Medical's the best place for him."
Arching an eyebrow as he read the briefing on the fic, Marcus looked back to Luke. He knew enough about Pirates of the Caribbean to just barely function on missions, but that honestly wasn't saying much. "Say, you happen to know anything about Pirates of the Caribbean? Looks like you and I are gonna have to tackle this slashfic, but I don't have any copies of those films. Bloody Upstairs' idea of an April Fools' joke? Heh."
A huge grin spread across Luke's face. "Pirates? Absolutely. Got the whole set in my RC, which one are we going to need?" Then the second part of Marcus' information hit him. "Hang on, slash? I'm an Assassin, not a Slasher... Still, can hardly leave you to deal with it by yourself, can I?" He sighed and came over to have a look. After a few moments of scanning the summary and opening paragraphs, he made a face. "Assassin or not, that's out of order. Looks like it's pre-Dead Man's Chest, though. Give me a minute, I'll go and get the DVD." He exited the room, but stuck his head back in a second later. "You've got the stuff for doing an exorcism, right?"
"Of course; I'm in Floaters now. We do everything, you know." After some quick searching in his pack, Marcus quickly produced a candle and bell, along with his neuralyser. "Just need a book, which is to say a copy of the film. Sorry about this, but you know how Upstairs is about it. Can't tell how many times this has happened to me way back when."
"Ah, don't worry about it. Be right back." With that, Luke dashed off.
After a short argument with Jessie over the DVD, which she claimed she'd been planning to watch, he made it back to Marcus' RC with the necessary film tucked in his jacket pocket. "Got it," he declared, taking the box out as evidence. "Though I don't know if it'll stand up to much if we need to hit anyone with it."
"Hopefully that won't be an issue. After all, it's been a long while since I saw those films, a refresher would be nice." Marcus seemed focused on trying to make sense of the fic, the particular canon not his strong suit even with relatively well-written fics, but eventually he shrugged and started dialling things into the console. "I don't think we'll need disguises, it's Bad Slash after all, but I assume you want one, being a pirate fanboy and all?"
A grin spread over Luke's face. "Hell, yeah." He handed over the DVD and approached the console. "Don't give me one with two eyes, though, it feels damn weird having this back nowadays." He tapped the eyepatch. "Jessie used to keep doing it to hack me off, so now we end up fighting over who gets to set the disguises." Gesturing at the console, he shrugged. "'S your mission, you do the honours."
Needless to say, Marcus promptly set the disguises so that both men now appeared to be typical pirates, the types that, if spotted by Jack, would be able to be passed off as members of his crew. However, once Luke made his request, he had made certain that his temporary partner now had two eyes. "Sorry, couldn't resist," was the only explanation he offered, failing to hold down a snicker at his friend while he opened the portal. Carefully ushering Corneal and Potters away from the blue doorway so the minis wouldn't end up sent into the mission, he looked back to his friend as the man struggled to the Console and portal. "Whenever you're ready, I guess."
"Remind me again why I'm friends with you," was the only reply as Luke moved carefully towards the portal, trying to get used to his new vision field. He stepped through and bumped against the wall next to him. "Marcus, you're an arse sometimes," he muttered, waiting for the older man to join him.
"Only sometimes? I'm getting rusty." Stepping into the portal after his friend, he took a look around. They were in some sort of smithy, though it appeared that the fic hadn't properly begun yet. Still, he could vaguely make out Will Turner ahead of them, so he tapped Luke's shoulder. "Let's get to a corner, watch the action for now. Unless your eyes aren't up to it?" Jokingly punching the big man, who in disguise was much more obviously the larger of the two, in the arm, Marcus nodded his head to a corner near the fic's action but out of the canons' sight. "Hurry, before the -"
A/N: So here is another one shot of the JW persuasion. It actually started out as a flashback in another story I was writing, but I decided it worked better on its own and scrapped the rest of the story.
I am sad to say that I do not own Jack or Will or anything else POTC related even though I really wish I did, along with Harry and Draco from HP... Oh well.
So, here it is, majorly angsty, a little fluffy and incredibly slashy...
Love in a Storm
"Ow," Luke muttered, making for the corner Marcus had pointed out. "I think Jack and Will would probably be relieved if they knew you didn't own them, kid, considering what you're doing to them. Not to mention Elizabeth, poor girl." Settling himself in the corner, he took the time to examine his disguise with a grin.
"What I wanna know is what Harry and Draco have to do with this fic." Crouching down next to Luke, Marcus kept an eye on the scene ahead of them. Turner was apparently making a sword, his mind occupied by Elizabeth, an upcoming wedding, Norrington's disappearance, and "someone else". "No points for guessing who it is," Marcus said to himself, as a storm started up outside the smithy. "Gonna need your help on this, Luke. I know the Bad Slash procedures, but you're the one with the canon knowledge, all right? I know some of it, but only enough to not fail missions here."
"Don't worry, man, I know this canon." Luke frowned. "I can't say much for this writer's sense of setting the scene, though. Goddamn purple prose." As he said that, the entire room flickered, and took on a faintly purplish tinge. "Well, that was unexpected... guess it's my own fault for mentioning it." He shrugged. "You got a notebook? I should start making a charge list - oh, come off it."
Sure, he had found freedom through Jack, yet the constraint was back because of his own decision to follow society’s expectations of him. He was trapped in this engagement, trapped by his own doing.
"Will was not trapped in anything," the big man muttered with annoyance. "If he didn't want to be with Elizabeth, he didn't have to tell her he loved her right before rescuing Jack in the first place."
"I thought this was pre-Dead Man's Chest? I don't remember that happening in the first one." Marcus scratched his head, honestly reluctant to admit to his friend that he had only seen the first film in the trilogy, and even then only because he was on the PPC equivalent of a date and it was what his at-the-time girlfriend had wanted to see. "Anyway, yeah, I always bring my notebook. I don't think we really need charges for a Slash mission, though..."
"We don't? Okay then. I'm not complaining, it's just habit, y'know?" Luke leaned against the wall, giving his temporary partner a look accompanied by a raised eyebrow. "And the engagement... well, it's not exactly announced in the first one, but it's kind of implied with the snog at the end. And Dead Man's Chest opens with the wedding, so by definition a pre-wedding fic means it's pre-second film. Simple logic." He glanced at the fic again, and froze. "Oh, no..."
Will pulled the sleeve of his white linen shirt back from his wrist, exposing the vulnerable flesh beneath. Taking a deep breath, he aligned the blade of the dagger over his wrist and breathed what he thought would be his final, tortured six words.
Luke was torn between dashing over and grabbing the knife, and letting the fic play out. "If he kills himself, I'll kill him."
"This isn't good! We can't let a canon commit suicide!" Marcus had already sprung to his feet by this point, alarm bells in his head going off once he spotted Will hefting the dagger with the intention of using it on himself, but Luke grabbed his arm before he could run out. It was only then, looking down at his friend turned temporary partner, that he realised he'd been preparing to charge out and wrestle Will to the ground to stop the canon from killing himself. He knew it was risking getting stabbed or at least completely destroying the fic's flow, but there was no way he was allowing part of the Plot Continuum he was charged with protecting to destroy themselves due to an author wraith. "Let go, man! We have to stop him!"
The voices had apparently got too loud, as Will looked over to the corner, instantly making Marcus shut up and duck back down. After a few seconds, though, he shrugged, and the author's influence took hold again to make the fic continue on its way. The purple tint of the Word World got a good deal darker as Will prepared to kill himself, but then Jack appeared, flooring Will with a tackle worthy of a rugby player and sending the dagger flying. As the two finally made eye contact, Marcus clutched his bell, knowing the worst was yet to come.
Dazed and rather confused, he looked blearily around himself, his own eyes finally meeting a pair of familiar dark brown eyes – eyes which always carried such meaning – which were watching him almost fearfully and a little angrily. Not a word was spoken between them and thoughts began to whirl through Will’s head so fast he did not know what they were.
While Jack's save had made the purplish tint lighten up a bit, now it had darkened almost to the point of being black, though it receded after a little while. Will tried to look away from Jack, only for the pirate to force him to look back at him, at which Marcus decided to take a glance at Luke and see his reactions. If even he could pick up the rampant OOC with so little knowledge of the canon, he could easily imagine how it was affecting his friend.
Once Marcus had managed to get a grip on himself, Luke relaxed, though he'd shared the guy's sentiments. Will was one of Luke's favourite characters from this particular canon - someone who could end up with Elizabeth Swann and as captain of the Flying Dutchman had to be pretty awesome by default. Seeing him acting like a whiny woobie was really beginning to annoy the Assassin. On seeing the description of Jack's eyes, however, he just had to snort.
"Sure. About the only thing Jack's eyes ever showed was that he was off his face." He considered this. "All right, maybe not, but... come on, this is so out of character I'm damn glad I don't have my CAD with me."
As Will tried to hide the fact that he was about to start crying, Luke sank down and banged his head lightly against the wall. "This is just wrong, man. I keep wanting to smack the idiot round the head." He stared at the Words, though he found himself actually closing his left eye in order to make them out more clearly. "And remind me to thump you later for this bloody disguise."
Trying to hold back his irritation, he continued to stare at the Words as Jack - not yet specified as such, but it was so blatant who the author meant that the character had shown up anyway - wiped away Will's tears, before the younger canon shoved the pirate away and stood up, going for the dagger again. Luke turned to watch Marcus, just in case the guy tried to tackle Will again.
Forcing down the temptation to just grab his gun and blast a hole in Will's kneecap, Marcus continued to observe, noting Luke's growing irritation. Trying to ignore Luke's comment about what would've happened if he'd brought his CAD, he noticed the sheer OOC was almost tangible, even among the drastically changing shades of purple that proved rather distracting from the actual fic. This time, watching Will place the dagger to his wrist didn't cause Marcus to have to be restrained, but only because he was certain the canon wouldn't actually do it. It was all a sadistic game to the author, toying with the canons' minds and perceptions to turn them into the twisted mockeries of their true selves that he saw before him. It was not Will Turner's fault that he was, at the moment, trying to end his own life; it was due to the author's evil taint, which pervaded every corner of the smithy to the point of making the entire Word World purple and hard to see in. His grip on the bell tightened until his knuckles went white and his powerful arm shook, as thoughts of Jack's eyes were the only thing that gave Will pause-
And then the Word World went from purple to sheer black for a moment, causing the Agent to cry out in alarm as all sight left him briefly. "Bloody hell! Luke, can you see anything? I can't even make out the Words, the whole fic's gone pitch black."
"What the -?" Luke had had his eyes closed, as even reading had just made him more annoyed, but the sudden lack of all light caught his attention. Staring around, he reached out blindly. He could feel the wall behind him, and his hand smacked into another wall rather hard, causing him to let out a few choice words and rub his knuckles. "Marcus, was this supposed to happen?"
After what seemed like a few seconds, however, the light returned slowly, along with the sound of Jack and Will talking.
“Will, what’s going on?” Jack asked, his voice quiet and without its usual cocky, arrogant, I’m-Captain-Jack-Sparrow edge to it.
“I’m working. That’s what it going on,” Will responded tersely, not even looking at Jack for fear he would cry.
The timing of that little exchange served to make the big man rather frustrated, and he straightened up. "Marcus? What the hell just happened? I've never seen that happen before, and believe me, I've seen some urple prose in my time." He was talking a little louder than he probably should have done, but the bizarre event had somewhat unnerved him.
“What is going on?” Jack repeated, slightly more assertively this time, but with an undertone of care and concern colouring his voice. Will almost cracked, but he still refused to look at Jack.
“I have orders to fill in order to earn enough money to provide for Elizabe...” Will could not even finish her name. How could he even contemplate using her as part of an excuse, let alone using his upcoming wedding to her as part of an excuse to Jack himself? Will’s heart ached as the thought of the wedding crossed his mind when Jack was so close.
Blinking as the light in the Word World returned, albeit still tinged a rather disturbing purple, he gave the fic's action a cursory glance before shaking his head in reply to Luke. "I haven't the slightest idea." Admitting this, he put a hand on his friend's shoulder, nodding tersely to the canons interacting not particularly far from themselves. If they could hear the canons, the canons could hear them, especially with such a clearly malevolent author-wraith in control. "You might want to keep your voice down, we don't want them to be alerted to us, we have no idea how they'll react with that wraith still running things." Luke nodded and shut his mouth.
Returning his eyes to the fic, Marcus watched them banter some more, Jack demanding yet again that Will look at him and unknowingly making the Agent pledge half-seriously that he'd shoot him the next time he said the words "look at me" while Will apologised. Meanwhile, the purple tint had grown brighter, and was now undulating in a strange pattern that made it very difficult to look at anything except Luke and the canons without starting to feel vaguely seasick. It was randomly flaring up to painfully-bright levels, and then darkening to the nearly black tone from earlier. It was becoming hard to focus; on the Words, on the canons, on anything. Pain was building up in his eyes from the flashing and switching of shades at random, while a wave of nausea and dizziness hit him briefly from the bizarre patterns of movement. The entire Word World felt like it was turning on him, though he couldn't place why or how.
The effects took longer to subside, but the event stopped just as suddenly as the others, requiring Marcus to sit down from the sudden switch, the fic now looking ordinary except for a purple glow that occasionally pulsed and then receded similarly to the movement of tides. The glow was even on the canons, giving them an otherworldly, distorted look. I'm going to need to report this to Upstairs...
“I’m going to ask you one questions and one question only – for now, at least – and I want an honest answer, savvy?” Jack waited for Will to nod before continuing. “Right, who is it you never told and what about?”
Will’s heart skipped a beat at the question and fear crept up behind him as he contemplated his answers.
“Only I assume that’s what made you decide to try and do away with yourself,” Jack added, obviously feeling the need to explain his question.
"Hm, an oddly sensible question for Bad Slash. I wonder..." Marcus paused to think for a moment, looking to his friend again to see if he was all right. Much to his relief, Luke was not surrounded by that strange purple glow. "Doesn't it seem odd to you, Luke, that this fic is almost competently written for Bad Slash? I mean, if it were an original fic it would hardly be bad, it appears, and look at the spelling and grammar. You have to have noticed the lack of errors."
"Mate, I wouldn't know, to be perfectly honest," Luke replied weakly, trying to shake off the effect of the last minute or so's weirdness. "I don't do slash, remember? I guess the SPAG's pretty good, but I've been paying more attention to the actual OOC-ness." He smiled wryly. "'S what you wanted me to come along for, anyway."
He took a deep breath, pulled himself together and stared out at the action again. "I refuse to believe that this writer knows anything about what these two are really like. All right, the banter's pretty in character, but Will just wouldn't do this." He made a gesture of utter frustration. "It's so canonical that he's after Elizabeth that half the plot of the series revolves around it."
"So, basically, it's a Pirates of the Caribbean fic in name only?"
"That's about the shape of it, yes. If it was an original fic, this wouldn't be a problem, but it's like the author just couldn't be bothered to make up a couple of new characters." He paused and thought about it. "Either that, or she saw the films and decided that Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp looked too pretty not to end up in this situation."
"Does anyone watch movies for reasons other than wanting to have sex with the actors any more?" Marcus asked, the question semi-rhetorical as he let out an exasperated sigh. "Or, I suppose, wanting to write them having sex with each other. Still, I hate fics like this, they reek of both wasted potential and sheer laziness. I don't remember much of the Pirates of the Caribbean canon, but I do notice the total lack of resemblance to the true nature of the characters. It's odd though, if she hadn't just copy-pasted the names of the POTC characters into this story, and had turned down the urple a bit -" Marcus was cut off by the purple glow suddenly growing at least ten times brighter, filling the entire smithy for a second, before it receded. "As I was saying, if she had turned that down a bit, this wouldn't be very bad at all, it seems. But this whole mission in and of itself gives me a bad feeling, I can't wait to be back in HQ."
Luke had pulled a slight face when Marcus asked his first question, feeling it a bit of a dig at himself for the assorted LOs he'd had registered over the years, many from movie continua. He nodded slightly as his friend ranted a little, both of them only occasionally flicking glances over to the two canons, who were arguing.
"This fic does feel weird, I'll give you that. I've never seen anything like it before. But apart from that, it's almost like the old days, eh? Remember, we used to keep hauling each other out on missions all the time." Luke leaned back against the wall again, rolling his eyes at the current dialogue.
“Why are you here, Jack?” Will asked, curious. Jack fidgeted nervously and his eyes began to dart all over the room, looking at anything but Will’s face.
“Um... to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials,” Jack replied, sounding uncomfortable. “But it seemed my congratulations are perhaps less than welcome. Anyway, you never answered my question properly.”
Sighing, the Assassin just let his head thunk against the wall again. "Is there any point to me commenting on how stupid this is? Jack's not going to let himself get this close to being arrested just to congratulate Will."
"Pirates are criminals," Marcus nodded. "In a way they're sorta like the organised crime groups of modern World One. A pirate who lived long enough to become a captain like Jack would have more sense than this. Also, I might be wrong, but didn't Jack not know either of them particularly well enough to care if they got married, at this point in the canon?"
"Got it in one. He met 'em both for the first time trying to get his ship back, and the only reason he took any interest in Will was because he's Bootstrap's kid, which means bargaining piece," Luke explained, finding that recalling the details of what he knew was helping distract him. "Granted, if Elizabeth had been up for it he'd have been interested enough to get friendly, but other than that she was more of a nuisance to Jack, particularly in the first film. She was just a way for him to manipulate Will."
"You know, maybe if fanbrats listened to lectures like that, there wouldn't be POTC fanfics. Maybe fanfics at all." Marcus chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He probably should have been paying attention to the fic, but he was still checking every now and then when the Word World was calm enough for him to look without feeling sick. It was a pleasant distraction until the exorcism, at least. "I suppose that would put us out of a job, though."
"Sometimes I think it'd be worth it," Luke grumbled. "Damn fanbrats. I wouldn't mind lecturing them if it meant we didn't have to sit through this sort of thing." He nodded to Will, who had just confessed that he wasn't in love with a woman. "It's getting more tempting to thump him every time I look. Bloody woobie."
Part two here.