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Dec. 17th, 2018
Tumblr Prompt Time!
Dec. 17th, 2018 05:27 pmFrom queenbookwench - "Due South: an interaction between Inspector Thatcher and Captain Welsh."
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It's been a helluva day.
Captain Harding Welsh slumps back in his chair and stares at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. Technically, it's a mountain range: peak one belongs to a Canadian Mountie, peak two belongs to a certain wiseass cop, and peak three somehow, somehow, is all about a wolf.
Why? Why the wolf on top of everything else? Weren't the mountie and the idiot enough for one captain to handle without a wolf, too?
The door to his office opens decisively. That's his first clue - his detectives usually either creep in in anticipation of being yelled at or barge in doing the yelling themselves. But a civilised middle ground - that's unusual. That's Canadian.
Sure enough, it's a Canadian. Not the one he was expecting, though.
He raises his eyebrows as Inspector Thatcher comes to stand in front of his desk. He never really wants to handle international diplomacy, but today he's feeling particularly ambivalent about it. That would be due to the fourth peak of paperwork, which is all about how somehow a mountie, a cop, and a wolf got sent to a mall opening and ended up busting a drug ring smuggling drugs in rubber ducks, which then somehow ended up shutting down two major intersections and personally traumatizing the nephew of the chief commissioner.
"Inspector. Not that I don't -"
She slams a full bottle of whiskey down on the desk. "If you speak to me I will leave and take this bottle with me."
Ah yes, that's right. The nephew of the chief commissioner had been escorting the Canadian ambassador's daughter.
Wordlessly, he digs two glasses out of his desk drawer and puts them next to the bottle. Thatcher pours them both a glass and slumps down in his guest chair.
For a long moment there's beautiful, wonderful silence.
"Why the wolf, though?" Thatcher says sadly under her breath.
Harding will drink to that.
It's been a helluva day.
Captain Harding Welsh slumps back in his chair and stares at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. Technically, it's a mountain range: peak one belongs to a Canadian Mountie, peak two belongs to a certain wiseass cop, and peak three somehow, somehow, is all about a wolf.
Why? Why the wolf on top of everything else? Weren't the mountie and the idiot enough for one captain to handle without a wolf, too?
The door to his office opens decisively. That's his first clue - his detectives usually either creep in in anticipation of being yelled at or barge in doing the yelling themselves. But a civilised middle ground - that's unusual. That's Canadian.
Sure enough, it's a Canadian. Not the one he was expecting, though.
He raises his eyebrows as Inspector Thatcher comes to stand in front of his desk. He never really wants to handle international diplomacy, but today he's feeling particularly ambivalent about it. That would be due to the fourth peak of paperwork, which is all about how somehow a mountie, a cop, and a wolf got sent to a mall opening and ended up busting a drug ring smuggling drugs in rubber ducks, which then somehow ended up shutting down two major intersections and personally traumatizing the nephew of the chief commissioner.
"Inspector. Not that I don't -"
She slams a full bottle of whiskey down on the desk. "If you speak to me I will leave and take this bottle with me."
Ah yes, that's right. The nephew of the chief commissioner had been escorting the Canadian ambassador's daughter.
Wordlessly, he digs two glasses out of his desk drawer and puts them next to the bottle. Thatcher pours them both a glass and slumps down in his guest chair.
For a long moment there's beautiful, wonderful silence.
"Why the wolf, though?" Thatcher says sadly under her breath.
Harding will drink to that.