Reception

Nice hotel. Oh, very nice.

Pretty receptionist or desk manager or whatever. Looks stressed. Don't flirt with her, Keel, or I'll really blow it.

Keel, put that girl *down*. It's been a long, hard day.

OK, so she's had problems. A broken freezer and cappucino machine?

Fine. We just have a few bodies and a little blood. Not ours, at least.

"Yes, miss. A double."

Good move, Keel. He doesn't even look embarrassed. He's improving.

She looks rather wistful. Sorry, love.

Hope the beds are as soft as the carpet.

Yes, I'm sure we'll enjoy our stay. Quite sure, thanks.

Extreme Prejudice

"I - I just can't, Sam."

"You're joking."

"Do I ever joke in life-threatening situations?"

"Yes. Part of the Keel charm."

"Fine. Well the charm's fresh out. You can handle it."

"It's your target. Your home ground. Your problem."

"It doesn't seem right."

"It seems perfectly right to me, Chris. Do it."

"Sam, don't make me do this. Please."

"SEALs, was it?"

"That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, Chris. You're the one who likes to say that, remember."

"I never hit on the defenceless. Malone would agree with me. It's against CI5 principles."

"Chris, would you please *kill* the fucking *spider*.

Taking Turns

"Besides, it wasn't a three-foot machete, Chris."

"You had time to measure it? Did you?"

"Eighteen inches. Maximum. Size counts."

"It was a *machete*, Sam. And that counts. Size isn't everything."

"Chris. Be reasonable."

"Reasonable? You want me to be reasonable?"

"Yes."

"Reasonable like you, you mean Sam?"

"If you like."

"If *you* like."

"I like, Chris. You know bloody well I like."

"C'mon. Prove it."

"Like this?"

"Yeah, Sam. *Just* like that."

"Complaints? Size? Length? This reasonable enough for you?"

"Yes. YES. Oh, very reasonable. Oh JESUS"

"Good, Chris?"

"Mmmm. So good. But remember..."

"Remember what?"

"My turn next."

Adrift

The sea is all around me. A sea of pain, crashing waves of it overlying a persistent swell of shock and weakness.

The horizon blurs. Ripples of other, insistent shafts of agony blend and break, scatter and die, only to gather strength again. And again.

Adrift, lost, I think of blue water and blue eyes made grey by the storm.

Sandy beaches I can't reach, just as I can't touch the sandy hair.

I crave for warmth, security, a safe haven.

A hand takes mine. Offers all that in a single touch.

The tide slowly ebbs away.

I'm saved. Alive.

Final Diagnosis

His eyes, the colour of soft blue denim, tell me immediately.

The verdict's fallen, and the news isn't good.

He sinks down, defeat on his face.

"You did..."

"Get a second opinion? Yeah."

"And there's really..."

"Nothing they can do."

Oh hell.

He's not taking this well. I touch his hand briefly, wanting to say something. But what?

"They said that the damage was just too much. Have to accept it, Sam."

I nod.

"You'll still...?"

"Love you? Don't be daft." I have to cheer him up somehow.

And even if his old 501s are really beyond repair this time.