capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

WHO:

shockheadedpete
WHERE: Some road someplace and then elsewhere
WHEN: Today...?
SUMMARY: James is a naughty boy, breaking the speed limit and other such illegalities. Sadly there's police nearby
WARNINGS: Snark, whining, spy abuse, police abuse
FORMAT: Whatever <3

Since James arrived in the city, hes been keeping himself entertained with his usual antics. Even without the MI6 around to keep him distracted with missions, there's been plenty to do and plenty of new women to meet. Not to mention the level of crime keeps him busy from day to day and he's found criminals make the best sort of people to steal from in return. Which would be why James has started to gather himself a small collection of cars, each from dead drug dealers and the like, and each one taking his fancy in some way, now stashed away in a garage or warehouse of his choice.

Today he's gone for the Chrysler, the car that's almost the American answer to Aston Martin. Not as good, naturally, but considering he totalled ~~Stark's~~ his Aston, he'll have to make do.

It's new to him, having only acquired it yesterday, so he's giving it a bit of a test drive. Explains why he thinks it's a good idea to whip through an intersection just as the lights turn red, then speed off down the straight, letting the engine roar as he puts his foot down. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's a good thing he's on our side.

"It ain't the career for everyone," Pete points out.

Too many people don't give a damn about the law if it gets in their way in even the tiniest way. Not even good people.

"Hn, suppose not." And just maybe James is being a little bit more compliant now, if only because he is trying out the persuasion and charm.

"Look, I know you've got better things to be doing than stolen cars and speeding tickets. Why don't I just pay the fines and bail and whatever else you might need up front and we leave it at that?"

Sorry James: Pete is spoken for.

"Because that'd be crooked an' I ain't that kinda cop," he says, simply as they pull up in front of the station.

"I admire your morals."

Yeah, okay, so that bitter, childish sarcasm is back already. He wants his own way, dammit! Don't be surprised if there's pouting and feet stamping to follow.

"Mmm hmm."

Don't challenge Pete to a pout off: his chin wobbles like no one else's, and of the two of you he has the far baby-er face.

He opens James' door like a valet.

"After you."

Well, fine, if he can't have a pout off, maybe he can just go for a really mature stare down instead, because by the time he's out of the car, that's what he's aiming for.

Even if climbing out isn't the easiest thing with the few healing cracked ribs he's got plus the handcuffs, but he manages, and proceeds to stand, facing Pete and just glaring.

No he won't walk himself straight into the police station, that'd just be too easy.

Have it your way.

Pete places a hand gently, yet firmly behind James' elbow and escorts him toward the doors like they're about to attend the Junior Prom.

Not that Pete would know: he never did.

But still: a charming couple.

"Can I assume you know the drill?" He asks.

If Pete wants a date, he only needed to ask. This is a little extreme just to play prom.

"No. I don't usually get this far." Usually he gets cuffed, or not, waits until it all calms then starts stating his higher ranking, getting the ID out and the phone calls made.

Technically though, he knows the drill.

"How far does that electricity of yours reach?" Innocent!

"Pretty damn far."

And Pete isn't even exaggerating. About half an avenue block without trying very hard.

"Alright. Don't you worry, Mr. Bond: we'll take good care a you."

James is pretty sure he can't run that fast. Damn shame.

"I'm sure you will. I know all about the hospitality you police offer."