lastrat

[When the feed comes on, it's to Bond's back, moving away from the camera. It only takes a moment for him to get far enough away that it's clear where he is - an empty, Barge standard room - and that he is not alone. Esther is sitting in a chair facing the camera. Bond steps around her, pulling off his tie and tugging her hands up to bind them in front of her. When he looks up at the camera, it's brief, and only to assure himself that the recording light is on.

As Esther rouses, she focuses, and immediately begins to tear up.] What are you doing? Let me go!

Stop that. [Bond is short with her, his patience gone. He's been back less than an hour; of course Esther would be the first to run into him.

When Esther shows no intention of obeying, Bond steps in front of her - not to hide that he backhands her, because that much is clear even without direct line of sight. He starts speaking without looking at the camera, moving around behind Esther again. He ignores her tears, and more than that, her cries for help.]

Usually I don't mind a good lie. [He reaches for the ribbon around her neck, and grabs a fistful of her hair when she shrieks and tosses her head. When he tears it away, there's a scar around her collar. He has to raise his voice, because the moment he pulls it free, she starts screaming like a wild thing, not the prim little girl she's been pretending to be.] But I think this one's gone far enough.

[Her wrists are next, and Bond pulls her arms up. Esther struggles, half rising; Bond shoves her back into the chair, and rips away the ribbons on her wrists, revealing more scars.]

Most of you will remember a flood where the Admiral thought it would be a good laugh to send us back to our youth. [He throws her arms back down, glaring a warning, and pulls a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. Bending over her shoulder, he drags the cloth over her face, holding up the makeup stained pocket square for the camera. He returns to the task, hand tight in her hair to keep her still, acting as though her shrieks don't phase him. The more makeup he wipes away, the less child-like she looks.] Esther tried to convince us that she'd been aged up instead of down. [Grabbing her by the jaw, he forces her mouth open so he can shove the handkerchief in as a temporary gag.]

She's a grown woman, responsible for the fire, my death and near death, and Ellie's attack. These scars are from a straitjacket - the one she wore when she was a teenager. She's been pretending to be eight for god knows how long - long before the Admiral decided she deserved a second chance. [He sneers.] I'd certainly disagree.

[Sup Barge. Here's a funny thing you might have noticed, if you've been in port and paying attention to the news: there was a break in and, so news anchors say, attempted burglary at an affluent townhouse. A blurry camera image has been making the rounds, and a police sketch, and you know what?

Both of those pictures look a lot like James Bond.

Yeah, the second he recognized London, he headed for MI6 and couldn't even get past the lobby. So, he went for M's apartment. Which, in this world, was definitely not M's apartment.

It all kind of went downhill from there.

The past almost forty-eight hours have largely been spent awake and avoiding cameras and cops. Which is really not an easy thing, do you have any idea how many CCTVs there are in a city? All in all, nowhere near his worst two days, but definitely, definitely not his best. There's nothing quite like hope dangling in your face only to see it ripped away.

He doesn't bother with a video this time, just clicks on the audio function; he sounds short, maybe even tired, and there's an edge that really just says he's not in the mood for anything.]

I need money.

[He knows you wardens have cards. He is fully planning to take one, he just needs to pick a target. And no, he's not going to mention is foray as a wanted man because it's really not that new to him.]