video;

[anewlanguage]

Well waddaya know. I've got a shower of my own.

[Actually he's been home (or in his cabin anyway) over an hour. He'd returned from his shift, and bam. Shower.

So of course he had to test it out before announcing anything. Maybe it was a trick, after all--but nope.

He's graduated.]

...Thanks, Dean.

Comments

[routemistress]

I 'ave a definite hankering to see you in a shirt covered in pineapples.

[She may be actually serious here.]

...shopping trip first, I'm in. Or we can just give the Admiral a list. 'E owes you.

[anewlanguage]

Nah, if the Admiral gives me anything it'd have pink cupcakes on it. And it'd take all the fun out of trying on those garish Hawaiian shirts.

[routemistress]

[Iris was already lit up from inside with anticipation; this notches up the delight perceptibly. Because how many men would enjoy that?

THIS ONE. LIFE IS GOOD.]

Good point. 1970s London? Easier to nick stuff before they brought in all the electronics.

[anewlanguage]

[He has one of those smiles, the one that sent shivers down his employers' spines, the one that promises he's out to have fun.]

Count me in. You know I was actually there, way back then? I wonder if our versions'll have the same chips vendor I liked.

[routemistress]

[It does things to Iris' spine as well, it has to be said. She looks ready to lift off the ground with excited pleasure.]

'Course they will, all the best chippies are crossdimensional. Oooh, and I can show you all me favourite pubs.

...all right, maybe not all, we'd never make it to the beach.

[anewlanguage]

We'll do a pub crawl, see how far we get. Question is, what are you going to have me drink that I've never had before?

[routemistress]

...You might want to let me clone you a spare liver first, my love. You've not seen me do a full-on interdimensional pub crawl yet.