“God, I’m fucking knackered,” Eggsy groans. His right leg’s falling asleep on him, but he doesn’t want to shift in his chair. The Statesman’s medical team said that luckily for him, his ribs hadn’t been smashed to bits and his concussion wasn’t too serious. Lucky him, yeah, but if it weren’t for the meeting, he’d be having a lie-down right now. “Who the fuck knew Charlie was going to have a fucking mechanical arm? Fucking mission went pear-shaped.”
“Aye,” Merlin sighs. “Glaikit bastard. Should have amnesia darted him when he left, put him on surveillance—”
“We couldn’t have, though,” Eggsy points out, “not with Chester around. And are you saying you don’t watch the candidates who—” he cuts himself off, remembering that the other Statesman agents are also in the room, looking at them curiously. Kingsman may be no more, but he’s still got to act like it’ll come back. “…who are like that?”
Merlin shakes his head. “No. And perhaps we need to look into that.”
“Mental,” Eggsy groans, closing his eyes. He might not have had anything to do with the administrative side of Kingsman, but that doesn’t mean that not keeping an eye on the candidates who failed the fucking loyalty test is a sort of shite idea “Absolutely fucking mental.”
There’s a loud cough from the seat on Eggsy’s left. “Yeah, guys, I have no fucking clue what you’ve been saying,” Tequila drawls, boots on the table.
Eggsy sees Ginger gives him a reproving look, much like Merlin’s, and with a wink, Tequila slides his feet onto the floor, catching Eggsy’s eye in order to shoot a grin his way.
“We know Charlie Hesketh from before,” Merlin says. “He was one of our recruits—”
“No, no, not that, I gathered that,” Tequila says, waving his hand. “But all those…slang words.”
Could you do a tequila/eggsy fic that includes “I have no fucking clue what youve been saying”? Please and thank you!
Published
FantasyBoudicca 