Subject: Rita Skeeter, here, reporting for the Multiverse Monitor!
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Posted on: 2018-07-15 22:47:00 UTC

Yes, you read that right. Rita Skeeter (or a cunning replacement who contrived to keep her name?) has made it to the PPC, and is now writing for the Multiverse Monitor.

Her mission? To interview Jacques Bonnefoy, as a hard-hitting reporter should, and to bring to you, dear readers, the whole unvarnished truth about this seductive former character replacement who recently celebrated his fifth year at HQ!

Excerpts from the interview follow:

His beautiful blue eyes, sparkling only seconds ago with the thrill of attempted seduction (to which, dear readers, I can only hope not to succumb before finishing the interview!) turn misty with the remembered grief of cradling the corpse of Ianto Jones.

...

"You know," he says, leaning forward in a way that emphasizes the powerful muscles in his shoulders, "I love your hair." He pauses, and sorrow is clear in his deep voice as he continues. "Rose dyed her hair to get that exact shade, you know. She'd be so envious."

...

"Are the rumors true?" I have to ask, even if it pains him. I am committed to the truth. "That you remember a relationship with Rose Tyler and the Ninth Doctor beyond what is shown on the show?"

He shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. They...they never did quite see me the way I saw them." He forces a smile; even with little heart behind it, it is enough to steal one's breath. "Can I get you a drink? Reporting is very hard work."


...

"But enough about me, Ms Skeeter," he says. He pulls me close, fingers trailing tingles up and down my arm. "I want to know about you. Someone with such an impressive reporting history must have some good stories to tell!"

To my surprise, I find myself giggling, blushing, looking down in a coy way I abandoned soon after my teens. Something about this man brings out the excitement of youth, of that first, most breathtaking crush that never quite leaves you for years afterwards. "Oh, I do," I say. I yearn to impress him, but that's not why I'm here--and besides, I'd much rather hear him talk. "But they're nothing compared to yours." I look up at him through my long eyelashes, feeling shy--and, dear readers, I haven't felt shy in years! "Would you tell me more about your early days in ESAS? The first person you seduced in HQ?"
How you're managing to make me melt in ways no man has managed since a reporter's cynicism changed my perspective forever?

He chuckles--the warmest sound I've heard--and pulls me even closer. There are people who would call this scandalous. "Why don't I tell you," he murmurs wickedly, "about how I plan to seduce
you?"

...

Somehow--I'll never quite know how--I manage to scrape together enough of my composure to ask him another question. "You seduce so many people--is it always a split second decision, or do you take your time before approaching them?"

He pulls back the slightest bit, leaving me oddly bereft. His warmth had enveloped me without my noticing. "Oh, it depends on the person. There are people I've waited five years without seducing."

I sense a story here--perhaps one of longing--and so I question him further. "That sounds like a seduction--or several--to remember. What kept you from doing it earlier?"

"The time wasn't right," he says.

His eyes are on my mouth. They are surely intent enough to set me on fire--and I want to burn.

"Did you always plan on seducing
me?" I ask. My breath is so fast--my heart is racing. He could do anything in this moment, and so long as he touched me, I'd never protest. Such is the power of his presence.

"I decided to try five minutes after you walked in," he says. His voice is low. Honesty, earnestness--they shine from his face, in his smile, in the way his eyes caress my skin--and then it's his hands I feel skimming up my arms, and he leans in close. "Tell me, lovely Rita--have I succeeded?"

I kiss him in answer--or I would, but that would go against my professionalism. He has no such compunctions, however, and in seconds, his lips are on mine.

Dear readers, you know I strive to describe to you everything worth knowing--and a kiss from this man is well worth knowing. But how could mere words convey this? Were I to tell you his lips are soft and his hands wander, I would be remiss--for that description ignores the confident step closer, the care not to disturb my hair, the sheer, all-consuming focus that overtakes the one being kissed--for how could it not? His complete attention is on the kiss, and on the person being kissed--and I could describe this to you a thousand times over, and still fail to encapsulate the true feeling of kissing Jacques Bonnefoy.

For once, dear readers--and you know well how infrequently this happens--words fail me.


--
...more to come?

(Did Rita get more than a kiss? Has Jacques been truthfully represented in this interview? Are there any parts of this article that would sound out of place in a Harlequin romance novel? Find out sometime!)

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