Distress Call Bonus Scene: Screwed
TITLE: Screwed
SUMMARY: Just when Eggie was having a wonderful day ...
CHARACTERS: Edgar Poland, Evo Krater; discussion of House and Wilson
RATING: R for language and themes (gen fic).
WARNINGS: This is a very alternate universe. Adult themes and adult language.
SPOILERS: No.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Never will.
NOTES: This is the first of two "stick around for the credits" scenes for Part Five. Links to all chapters of the Distress Call universe can be found here.
It warms Eggie's tired old heart, truly it does, to see Evo Krater's face on the office monitor. Because Krater has the look of a very satisfied customer, and that's what it's all about. Eggie doesn't need to know what the fuck was wrong with the guy, not that Krater's saying. He's saying the docs did their job, which is great because there's this other job Eggie's lining up for them, and if this keeps working out? Partners again, Greggo my lad. Only Eggie's gotta scrounge up a new pony or something for the kid, since that sorry thing Willy Skynn sold him just keeled over and --
"... that I have shuttled them directly to their ship. They send their regards, but you will not need to retrieve them."
"Wait, not need to ... you're saying they're --"
"Approximately half a quadrant away, by now. They are no longer in need of your services. I thought you should know."
"You didn't bring --" Eggie puts the brakes, hard, on the tirade of furious expletives that's rushing around in his head. "We agreed --"
"We agreed that I would pay you for their services, which I have done. You will find the balance transferred to your account. As for the doctors, we had no agreement. I am afraid you must have assumed I would return them to Exeter."
There's something absolutely fucking immovable in Krater's quiet voice. This? This isn't like dealing with the Crazy Fucks. This man is very sane and very fucking deadly. Eggie forces himself to breathe, breathe, not be a moron, not tell Evo fucking Krater to go fuck himself sideways with a cattle-prod.
"I found myself with a question of conscience," Krater continues. "Had I left them at your mercy, you would have hired them out again. I cannot blame you; profit is profit. But I owed them better than to deny them their freedom. I took care of their credentials myself."
Great. A regular fucking philanthropist, Eggie thinks, but he's still not a moron, so he doesn't say it. He doesn't know what the hell to say, and isn't that a fucking first.
"I am sorry to disappoint you," Krater says, with this rueful little smile like he means it. "But you treated me fairly, Mister Poland, and I will remember that."
It takes a half-second for the words to plant themselves in Eggie's mind and bear a shining, luscious fruit ripe for the picking, and the name of that fruit?
Respect.
Eggie smiles back at Evo Krater. His ship has finally come in, and it's loaded to the fucking gunwales with gravi-fucking-tas.
"You can call me Eggie," Eggie says. "You and me, we should talk sometime."
Krater is chuckling as he cuts the connection.
SUMMARY: Just when Eggie was having a wonderful day ...
CHARACTERS: Edgar Poland, Evo Krater; discussion of House and Wilson
RATING: R for language and themes (gen fic).
WARNINGS: This is a very alternate universe. Adult themes and adult language.
SPOILERS: No.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Never will.
NOTES: This is the first of two "stick around for the credits" scenes for Part Five. Links to all chapters of the Distress Call universe can be found here.
It warms Eggie's tired old heart, truly it does, to see Evo Krater's face on the office monitor. Because Krater has the look of a very satisfied customer, and that's what it's all about. Eggie doesn't need to know what the fuck was wrong with the guy, not that Krater's saying. He's saying the docs did their job, which is great because there's this other job Eggie's lining up for them, and if this keeps working out? Partners again, Greggo my lad. Only Eggie's gotta scrounge up a new pony or something for the kid, since that sorry thing Willy Skynn sold him just keeled over and --
"... that I have shuttled them directly to their ship. They send their regards, but you will not need to retrieve them."
"Wait, not need to ... you're saying they're --"
"Approximately half a quadrant away, by now. They are no longer in need of your services. I thought you should know."
"You didn't bring --" Eggie puts the brakes, hard, on the tirade of furious expletives that's rushing around in his head. "We agreed --"
"We agreed that I would pay you for their services, which I have done. You will find the balance transferred to your account. As for the doctors, we had no agreement. I am afraid you must have assumed I would return them to Exeter."
There's something absolutely fucking immovable in Krater's quiet voice. This? This isn't like dealing with the Crazy Fucks. This man is very sane and very fucking deadly. Eggie forces himself to breathe, breathe, not be a moron, not tell Evo fucking Krater to go fuck himself sideways with a cattle-prod.
"I found myself with a question of conscience," Krater continues. "Had I left them at your mercy, you would have hired them out again. I cannot blame you; profit is profit. But I owed them better than to deny them their freedom. I took care of their credentials myself."
Great. A regular fucking philanthropist, Eggie thinks, but he's still not a moron, so he doesn't say it. He doesn't know what the hell to say, and isn't that a fucking first.
"I am sorry to disappoint you," Krater says, with this rueful little smile like he means it. "But you treated me fairly, Mister Poland, and I will remember that."
It takes a half-second for the words to plant themselves in Eggie's mind and bear a shining, luscious fruit ripe for the picking, and the name of that fruit?
Respect.
Eggie smiles back at Evo Krater. His ship has finally come in, and it's loaded to the fucking gunwales with gravi-fucking-tas.
"You can call me Eggie," Eggie says. "You and me, we should talk sometime."
Krater is chuckling as he cuts the connection.