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"Right," Pete says as he opens up his flat in Mayfair.

It's not huge by any definition of the word, but it's nice and a bit spacious. The bookshelves are full, and there's a modest record collection on a shelf in the corner, along with an old record player. The kitchen is small, but there's a relatively spacious bathroom, and the two bedrooms are next to each other, his own bedroom unkempt, but nowhere near the levels he used to keep his personal spaces back when they were first dating.

"Kitchen's through there," he points. "Living room's here, loo's back there, and your bedroom is the guestroom in the back."
goawayleavemealone: (Default)
It takes him a while to pick up the bloody phone and call, because...

Well, things are busy. It's not an actual walk in the park to run a government intelligence agency, and he has a lot on his plate with that, to say nothing of his crazy ol' dad, who's been sick and a sister who hasn't been around much recently.

But he shoulda called sooner.

it's not that he doesn't care. He cares, it's just...

It's Pryde.

It's Pryde and she was gonna marry the bloody Russian.

Still.

Shoulda called sooner.

So he taps her icon in his contacts, sits back in the chair at his office, and he waits.

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