Subject: 50 Shades of Tacitus~
Author:
Posted on: 2015-10-02 02:38:00 UTC

a/n So this is this new story about some of the DIA because the DIA is awesome, okay?? And it's gonna be good
so good
sooo goooooood
u'll love it
Okay, enjoy!! Remember to R'nR!!

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I was staring into the mirror, trying to get my hair to lie flat. Why, you may ask? Because I, Gaspard de Grasse, have been pressed into service by my roommate.

Damn you, Guardsman.

Of all days, it's today that he chooses to have to lie on the couch with his injured body sprawled everywhere. Because of course he had to get impaled today--right when he was supposed to go interview Tacitus for the Multiverse Monitor. And no one else is available to do it--no one else except me.

I've dressed as nicely as I can manage--clean jeans, a button-down shirt--but my black hair won't flatten no matter what I do. I try for a while longer, but finally I sigh and go out to the main room--no point delaying the inevitable.

The Guardsman lies on the couch, practically sprawling despite the stomach wound. His face is handsome, even with the pain; it figures. He's examining a deck of bloodsoaked cards when I enter.

"Gaspard!" he says once he's looked up. "Thanks again for doing this."

I shrug. "Yeah, well. How are you feeling?"

His face crumples into a grimace; even then, he still looks nice. "Well, you know. I've got a watch stuck between my ribs--can feel it moving when I breathe--and I just found out my favorite deck of cards got ruined. They're just about shredded, see, and I doubt the blood will come out. Thanks for going to the interview, though, you're really saving me."

The Guardsman has to do this interview, because Tacitus is donating a lot of money to DoSAT, specifically for development of DIA tech. That's how he made his fortune--he's really good with tech. I don't know what else he does, though--I'm not the one who got prepared for this interview. All I have is the Guardsman's cue cards; it'll have to be enough.

"You just rest and get better," I tell him, and pick up my jacket from its hook by the door. "I'll be back later. Is the Reader going to check up on you?"

The Guardsman waves one strong hand. "She'll text. Don't worry about me--just go. I'll be alright--dammit--"

He's tried to sit up.

"Don't regenerate," I tell him, and go out the door.

He'll be fine. And if he's not, his sister will scold his next regeneration, and then he'll apologize. It's happened once before.

With one last look back, I get into my car and drive away (a/n: it's a new thing I'm adding that you have to use a car to get anywhere between departments--it just won't work as well otherwise, okay? On with the story!!). Away...towards Dives Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

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((With no apologies to Sea-Turtle, except maybe several for the bits he didn't know about, and with full acknowledgement of general plot to E.L. James--parodic purposes only, here. Not that the badficcer here is ever going to admit the inspiration without being prompted heavily...))

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