♠ | 026 | Voice + Spam
lastrat: (I'll die another day)
[personal profile] lastrat
[Bond's comm clicks on, and he sounds terribly exasperated, bored, and maybe a touch annoyed. It's mostly so he can talk over any questions coming through the network, so he doesn't have to answer anything. Just in case.]

I remember this flood. I'll be in the pub, if anyone feels like having their mouth taped shut. [Or jaw broken. Whatever.]

Chris, do us a favor and stuff a bar of soap in yours. [Or he could get earmuffs and do it himself, he would not be opposed!

And he is probably going to be leaving his communicator in his room, because no thank you, he enjoys his secrets. There's a very small window for catching him on the network.]


[Spam]

[Because he is not, in fact, going to the pub. In actuality, Bond is heading for the pool, where he is changing into blue trunks that are too short to be actual trunks what the hell and starting the first of many, many laps. Eventually, he'll tire and float in the deep end for a time.

He came here instead of the pub mostly because the pool is quiet, because he's not certain if he's affected, and because he doesn't know what answers would come out of his mouth if certain questions were asked. Why is he here? He knows that answer. But is it worth it? A mystery. Why did he fuck up so badly with Esther, with Ellie? He doesn't know. Why doesn't he just return to a world where his way of dealing with things is utterly acceptable?

It's too tempting. So he deafens himself with the water as he cuts through it, planning how best to avoid the Barge for the next few days.]

♠ | 020 | Voice + Spam
lastrat: (live and let die.)
[personal profile] lastrat
Private notes to Elena, Cassel, Chris, Selina, & Natasha )

[Pub Spam]

[He really ought to be in the infirmary, but don't try to tell him that. Bond died an ugly, bloody death, and stayed that way for a day or two. It's an ugly knowledge, and it coils tight in the pit of his belly. Liquor doesn't soothe it, just eases it for a while. It sits a little looser, quieter. And the burn warms him, settles and spreads. It hurts his throat, though the burn has always been pleasant before.

He remembers Elena's teeth sinking into his skin, tearing, and fixes another martini.

He's far gone, drunker than he's ever been on the Barge, and he can't bring himself to care. He usually only gets this pissed on planes, or in the safety of his own flat at home: not when there are dangers around any given corner, not when there are vampires, werewolves, people who have every right to strip reparations for bad memories from his hide.

Not that he'd let them - not that he could do much, like this.

He sits at the bar, a martini in one hand, the other rubbing his aching eyes. Sleep would do him good, but he can't bring himself to leave yet. Not until the ache in the side of his neck fades, not until everything becomes a low buzz and nothing else.]


Spam for Vesper )

♠ | 008 | Spam + Voice
lastrat: (life is gone with a spin of the wheel)
[personal profile] lastrat
[Spam for Slade and Vesper]

there was one thing on his mind )

[Open spam for Zero]

warnings for vague allusions to that awful scene at the end of Casino Royale )

[Filtered to Peter, Slade, Chris, Sandoval, Lisbeth, Lark and Tyrion]

[Some time after this thread.] Room ten, level six, if you need a safe place.

[Yeah, that's it. He will spend half the time guarding that door with a gun, while he's in, but given how shaken this whole thing has left him, he's on high alert, and really he just wants to know that everyone is alive and hasn't thrown themselves out a window yet. It's an odd way of checking in.