no_sin_but | (no subject)

(no subject)

this is a placeholder, as mun is multitasking.

marlowe is in his room, lying on his bed, reading.

1984, in fact. He's about to the bit about the governments being evil and changing who they are fighting to keep the population under its boot.

read, kit, read.

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"Left to the men and women of the jury to decide. The system does have its flaws, but it's arguably the best one yet."

Darren has faith it will continue to refine itself.

"Well, well, well."

"Don't be mysterious with me. I'm too old. Vagueness and cagey remarks just come across as sanctimonious."

He gives up on the idea of reading, and slides down the bed, one ankle crossing over the other, as is customary when he plans on an afternoon nap.

He pulls off the glasses and starts on the scarf.

"I'm wounded, Master Nichols. And besides, I was merely wondering how often those good people were bribed."

"Wounded indeed, Master Marlowe. Jury members are under scrutiny for the duration of trials. They're not allowed to be seen speaking to the lawyers. They're not allowed to be seen speaking to anyone connected to the cas, as a matter of fact. They're selected at random from the population, specifically because they have no connection to the proceedings. Once it was discovered that a jury person had been the ex-lover of a man on trial, and failed to admit it. She was charged in turn with hampering the judicial process. That was in Montreal, a few years or ten or so ago."

"And the paperworms dance in delight, I'm sure."

"Well, yes. Everything nowadays is nine tenths paper."

He sets the glasses down on the dresser with precise care. This time he will not forget where they are.

Of course.

"It's getting there in my time. All little pieces of paper with little men controlling far too much."

"It'll all work out in the long run."

Just, the run is very, very, very long.

Amused,

"How long are we talking?"

"If I knew that I'd be a much happier man than I am."

Though he has had a certain mellowness recently that he hasn't felt in a very long time.

"I shall keep that in mind for whenever I work it out."

"And share it with me when you do. I'm sure you'd make a better philosopher than I."

Darren gets too hooked up on the small details. The hovering, the sequins.

"Years of training for the priesthood."

Darren snorts, and lifts an arm to cover his eyes.

Priesthood. Marlowe. Right.

"That would have gone well."

A quick smile.

"Don't you think the robes would have suited me?"

Darren lifts his arms and looks Marlowe up and down very deliberately. Almost undressing him with his eyes, one might say. Then, without fuss, the arm goes over his eyes again.

"Shamefully modest."

Sometimes, Marlowe wishes that he really wouldn't do things like that. And othertimes, his brain says 'well, it's better than nothing'.

"Not...quite the word I was after."

"I'm just saying it would be a shame."

He makes it sound perfectly innocent, too. Because it is, of course. He's not doing the sex thing right now. Marlowe is just a roommate. Of course.

"But the robes make striding through places ever so dramatic."

Trust him, he knows.

"How many chances to be dramatic does a priest get?"

Maybe they had different kinds of priests.

"Every sermon." Smug.

"That would be why I stopped going to church."

In case Marlowe was wondering.

And that?

Just gets a laugh, and Marlowe turns to Sherlock Holmes.

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