The Incident Room: General Chat

[Snapper]

It’s a great book, though I recommend starting with Rivers of London and working your way through the series if you haven’t read them first.

I have read the first and a few of the sequels but not the whole lot. Impressed by the coincidence of finding it today though.

(Should include a number of graphic novels in the now read list too.)

[Trivun]

I did say I was going to type up a short story following the second case, here it is! Just a little piece detailing the immediate aftermath from Izzy's point of view. And pointing out her suspicions of Neil Sholto-Jones

As the outbuilding once used for skittles went up in flames, Izzy had managed to stagger outside, and keep hold of the urn despite feeling its pull towards the place where it had been held for so long. She was coughing and spluttering, before Jordan gave her some rather effective treatment for the smoke inhalation she had clearly suffered. Her voice hoarse and raspy, though still as bright as ever, she called over to Dominic - “Do you have a landline I can use? It's urgent!”

He looked somewhat annoyed at her as he turned away from his husband to quickly point her in the direction of the landline inside the pub, but right now Izzy couldn't care less. She had more pressing concerns, and besides, although she had no ill will towards Dominic, Neil was a different story, at least until innocence could be proven. She was certain he had known about the urn, about where it lay hiding, and about what it contained. His eyes had betrayed him, the quick glance towards the scoreboard having been the clue that she had needed to uncover the pot.

Still, she couldn't waste time. She dashed inside, bringing the urn with her (there was no way she was going to let it out of her sight), and placed it carefully on the shelf beside the phone, in easy reach, before quickly dialing the Folly from memory. She didn't dare replace the batteries in her phones, neither work nor personal, for fear of Lee Snelgrove coming forth once more and wreaking havoc, especially on her microchips.

Izzy waited for a brief moment, getting more impatient, before the phone was finally answered. She heard silence, and realised that either Molly or Foxglove had picked it up, waiting with a little more patience this time for less than a minute before the voice of the guv'nor came through, loud and clear.

“Hello? This is DCI Nightingale, to whom am I speaking?”

He sounded as well spoken and good mannered as ever, though there was a slight hint of exasperation, as if he'd been called from something important. Of course. Izzy remembered that it was the Autumn Internationals, and right now the Harlequins were busy losing at home to the Maori All Blacks. Not that such a minor game would have been on the TV normally, but the management at the Twickenham Stoop had owed Peter and Nightingale a favour after dealing with a rather nasty case of a cursed trophy cabinet some months back...

“Sir, it's Izzy. Sorry to drag you away from the game, but we have a situation.” She explained as succinctly as she could, the events of the past few hours, including the emergence of Lee Snelgrove's revenant, and the fire that was still raging in the outbuilding even as the fire crew did their best to put it out. She was somewhat more tight lipped about Leo casting a Fireball, since he could easily give that detail himself in the later debrief... or not, however he wished. For now, let Nightingale think that Lee had caused the fire himself. She did note a rather distinct “hmm...” when she reached that part, but no further comment was made.

“I see.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, as Nightingale considered the situation. “I'm certain that Harold will want to examine the urn a lot more closely, but I would say that the safest place to do so would be back here. I'll call him in the morning and ask him to come down from Oxford and take a look. In the meantime, do you think you could bring the urn back to London, safely?”

There was a clear questioning tone that Izzy didn't take for granted. “We can try. But I'm concerned that the ghost... sorry, the revenant, might still be active within it.”

“That's something we'll just have to take the risk on. Keep a careful watch, and try to keep safe. I'll be here to take custody as soon as you're back in the capital. Any problems, please, call.”

“Of course. We'll see you soon.” And with that, Izzy returned to the others, urn in tow.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had wanted to question Neil Sholto-Jones about the urn, but they didn't have the time. Besides, right now he was in such a state, and Dominic wasn't letting anyone nearby save for the paramedics, even though Neil hadn't actually been hurt too badly. He seemed to be suffering from shock more than anything else, although Jordan had already raised his concerns about a possible concussion. Izzy liked Dominic, and so she wasn't about to press the matter further. She did make a note though, to have a member of the West Mercia Police pay Neil a visit when he was more well recovered, along with a list of questions to ask. Hell, she'd happily jump on the train to Hereford herself if needed, to get to the bottom of what he knew about the urn and about the late, unfortunate Lee Snelgrove. She had questions still unanswered, and she doubted that the boss would be too happy about leaving such mysteries unsolved either.

For now, though, she did her best to persuade the others to bundle themselves back into the people carrier, and head on back to London as soon as they could. They had all brought overnight bags, but Izzy had no intention of staying there until the morning. She managed to convince the others to head back sooner rather than later, although it was already around nine PM when they all bundled themselves into the vehicle and set off. Jordan driving, as the only one aside from Des who hadn't been drinking, and besides, Izzy wanted herself and Leo on guard with the urn to ensure that it didn't start acting up. Nor was she willing to take the motorway – despite Jordan's protests over how much longer the journey would take, she insisted on sticking to A roads, meaning a somewhat convoluted route consisting of the A438 from the village to Gloucester, then switching to the A436 and A40 past Oxford, another jaunt to Aylesbury up the A418, and finally taking the A41 the rest of the way. It was only as they passed the McDonald's coming through Headington, on the way out of Oxford, that Izzy considered that they could have simply dropped the urn off with Professor Postmartin there and then. However, he wasn't magically trained himself, and presumably would have no defence if it began to act badly. The Folly was the safest place, of course. Besides, it was already pushing eleven o'clock by the time they got to the university city, and she assumed that the good professor would already be tucked up in bed by then.

It was after midnight by the time the group returned to the hallowed confines of the M25, and it took another half hour to reach Russell Square from there. Nightingale was waiting for them at the rear gate to the coach house as they pulled in, and Izzy wasted no time handing over the prize, which had fortunately remained dormant all the way to London. She did wonder if the boss ever actually slept, but thought better of saying anything, before saying her goodbyes to the others (who all began their own separate journeys home), and hailing a taxi to take her straight back to her flat.

She was expecting Alice to already be in bed by now, but as Izzy stepped out of the black cab outside her apartment building, she noticed a light on, shining from a window on the top floor. Of course, it was hers, and she made her way upstairs to find Alice on the sofa, TV still on, clearly having fallen asleep whilst watching some documentary on Netflix. Next to her was Freya, curled up with her head resting against the girl's thigh, a tiny ball of fluff that every so often would let out a contented purr as she slumbered and dreamed of chasing mice across Finsbury Park.

Izzy turned the TV off, and watched the pair of them for a moment, just grateful to be home, not wanting to disturb either of them. It didn't take long for Alice's eyes to half open, and notice the young detective constable standing near the kitchen area, smiling.

“Izzy... you're back early... what time is it?” Alice said, stifling a large yawn as she lifted her head from the cushions.

“It's late. I didn't want to wake you.” Izzy looked through the cupboards, and grabbed a snack bar, just something to keep the hunger pangs away after the long drive back, before heading over to the sofa and sitting down next to Alice. She picked up Freya and put the kitty on her lap, giving her a few strokes and scratches, before snuggling up to her paramour and resting her head on Alice's shoulder. Almost instantly, she felt the tiredness hit her, closing her eyes and speaking with a mere whisper.

“Took a lot out of me today...” Izzy felt something on her head, and tensed up for a brief moment, before she realised that it was Alice, playing with her hair. She allowed herself to drift off in the moment, imagining the scene from an outside perspective. Izzy, lying back with a cat on her lap, her best Wendy Corduroy style with her denim jeans, plaid shirt, and long red hair sprawled out around her. Alice, equally long hair sprawled out just as messily across the cushions, chestnut brown, framing a round and pretty face. Dressed in the most casual attire, black leggings and an oversized Wolf Alice t-shirt hiding a slim and slender frame. Alice gently stroking Izzy's hair, picking up strands and twirling them around, allowing her fingernails to gently run back and forth across her scalp, every touch sending a delicious shiver of pleasure down Izzy's spine.

Despite the general rules of the masquerade, Izzy had told Alice about the job she did, although she hadn't given all the full details. She'd had to clear it with Nightingale first, of course, but Peter had served as precedent to a degree – his parents knew at least the basics, even if his mother was proud of “her son the witch-finder”. Still, although they'd only been dating a few months, it didn't surprise Alice now when Izzy came home talking about demon traps and dusted phones, or the memorable time when she'd chased what she thought was a unicorn through Epping Forest only for it to turn out to be some kid's runaway soapbox car. Now was no exception, and Alice listened patiently as Izzy got the day's events off her chest, from the arrival in Herefordshire all the way up to their late night journey back to civilization. At least, as far as Londoners tended to call it.

“Rough day, then. Poor baby...” Alice's voice was one of sympathy, and love. She shifted her head as much as she could, to let her lips meet the top of Izzy's head, before holding her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. They stayed like that for a while longer, just happy to be together, until Izzy finally gathered the strength to lift herself up, and stand. She gave Alice a knowing look, and without a single word, kept hold of her hand, as she led the way to the bedroom. She knew she'd pay the price the next morning, by needing at least three cups of coffee before even daring to venture to the debrief with Nightingale, but for now she didn't care. She leaned in, and kissed Alice deeply and passionately, as they sank down into the soft covers and allowed the night to pass them by...

[Philulhu]

Very good, Trivun

[Trivun]

Thank you!

[SaintMeerkat]

DC Leo Dansby.jpg (16.73 KiB) Viewed 1437 times

Luck Re-Roll: 2d10+50

[Trivun]

Luck re-roll:

2d10+50

[jp1885]

I did say I was going to type up a short story following the second case, here it is! Just a little piece detailing the immediate aftermath from Izzy's point of view. And pointing out her suspicions of Neil Sholto-Jones

As the outbuilding once used for skittles went up in flames, Izzy had managed to stagger outside, and keep hold of the urn despite feeling its pull towards the place where it had been held for so long. She was coughing and spluttering, before Jordan gave her some rather effective treatment for the smoke inhalation she had clearly suffered. Her voice hoarse and raspy, though still as bright as ever, she called over to Dominic - “Do you have a landline I can use? It's urgent!”

He looked somewhat annoyed at her as he turned away from his husband to quickly point her in the direction of the landline inside the pub, but right now Izzy couldn't care less. She had more pressing concerns, and besides, although she had no ill will towards Dominic, Neil was a different story, at least until innocence could be proven. She was certain he had known about the urn, about where it lay hiding, and about what it contained. His eyes had betrayed him, the quick glance towards the scoreboard having been the clue that she had needed to uncover the pot.

Still, she couldn't waste time. She dashed inside, bringing the urn with her (there was no way she was going to let it out of her sight), and placed it carefully on the shelf beside the phone, in easy reach, before quickly dialing the Folly from memory. She didn't dare replace the batteries in her phones, neither work nor personal, for fear of Lee Snelgrove coming forth once more and wreaking havoc, especially on her microchips.

Izzy waited for a brief moment, getting more impatient, before the phone was finally answered. She heard silence, and realised that either Molly or Foxglove had picked it up, waiting with a little more patience this time for less than a minute before the voice of the guv'nor came through, loud and clear.

“Hello? This is DCI Nightingale, to whom am I speaking?”

He sounded as well spoken and good mannered as ever, though there was a slight hint of exasperation, as if he'd been called from something important. Of course. Izzy remembered that it was the Autumn Internationals, and right now the Harlequins were busy losing at home to the Maori All Blacks. Not that such a minor game would have been on the TV normally, but the management at the Twickenham Stoop had owed Peter and Nightingale a favour after dealing with a rather nasty case of a cursed trophy cabinet some months back...

“Sir, it's Izzy. Sorry to drag you away from the game, but we have a situation.” She explained as succinctly as she could, the events of the past few hours, including the emergence of Lee Snelgrove's revenant, and the fire that was still raging in the outbuilding even as the fire crew did their best to put it out. She was somewhat more tight lipped about Leo casting a Fireball, since he could easily give that detail himself in the later debrief... or not, however he wished. For now, let Nightingale think that Lee had caused the fire himself. She did note a rather distinct “hmm...” when she reached that part, but no further comment was made.

“I see.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, as Nightingale considered the situation. “I'm certain that Harold will want to examine the urn a lot more closely, but I would say that the safest place to do so would be back here. I'll call him in the morning and ask him to come down from Oxford and take a look. In the meantime, do you think you could bring the urn back to London, safely?”

There was a clear questioning tone that Izzy didn't take for granted. “We can try. But I'm concerned that the ghost... sorry, the revenant, might still be active within it.”

“That's something we'll just have to take the risk on. Keep a careful watch, and try to keep safe. I'll be here to take custody as soon as you're back in the capital. Any problems, please, call.”

“Of course. We'll see you soon.” And with that, Izzy returned to the others, urn in tow.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had wanted to question Neil Sholto-Jones about the urn, but they didn't have the time. Besides, right now he was in such a state, and Dominic wasn't letting anyone nearby save for the paramedics, even though Neil hadn't actually been hurt too badly. He seemed to be suffering from shock more than anything else, although Jordan had already raised his concerns about a possible concussion. Izzy liked Dominic, and so she wasn't about to press the matter further. She did make a note though, to have a member of the West Mercia Police pay Neil a visit when he was more well recovered, along with a list of questions to ask. Hell, she'd happily jump on the train to Hereford herself if needed, to get to the bottom of what he knew about the urn and about the late, unfortunate Lee Snelgrove. She had questions still unanswered, and she doubted that the boss would be too happy about leaving such mysteries unsolved either.

For now, though, she did her best to persuade the others to bundle themselves back into the people carrier, and head on back to London as soon as they could. They had all brought overnight bags, but Izzy had no intention of staying there until the morning. She managed to convince the others to head back sooner rather than later, although it was already around nine PM when they all bundled themselves into the vehicle and set off. Jordan driving, as the only one aside from Des who hadn't been drinking, and besides, Izzy wanted herself and Leo on guard with the urn to ensure that it didn't start acting up. Nor was she willing to take the motorway – despite Jordan's protests over how much longer the journey would take, she insisted on sticking to A roads, meaning a somewhat convoluted route consisting of the A438 from the village to Gloucester, then switching to the A436 and A40 past Oxford, another jaunt to Aylesbury up the A418, and finally taking the A41 the rest of the way. It was only as they passed the McDonald's coming through Headington, on the way out of Oxford, that Izzy considered that they could have simply dropped the urn off with Professor Postmartin there and then. However, he wasn't magically trained himself, and presumably would have no defence if it began to act badly. The Folly was the safest place, of course. Besides, it was already pushing eleven o'clock by the time they got to the university city, and she assumed that the good professor would already be tucked up in bed by then.

It was after midnight by the time the group returned to the hallowed confines of the M25, and it took another half hour to reach Russell Square from there. Nightingale was waiting for them at the rear gate to the coach house as they pulled in, and Izzy wasted no time handing over the prize, which had fortunately remained dormant all the way to London. She did wonder if the boss ever actually slept, but thought better of saying anything, before saying her goodbyes to the others (who all began their own separate journeys home), and hailing a taxi to take her straight back to her flat.

She was expecting Alice to already be in bed by now, but as Izzy stepped out of the black cab outside her apartment building, she noticed a light on, shining from a window on the top floor. Of course, it was hers, and she made her way upstairs to find Alice on the sofa, TV still on, clearly having fallen asleep whilst watching some documentary on Netflix. Next to her was Freya, curled up with her head resting against the girl's thigh, a tiny ball of fluff that every so often would let out a contented purr as she slumbered and dreamed of chasing mice across Finsbury Park.

Izzy turned the TV off, and watched the pair of them for a moment, just grateful to be home, not wanting to disturb either of them. It didn't take long for Alice's eyes to half open, and notice the young detective constable standing near the kitchen area, smiling.

“Izzy... you're back early... what time is it?” Alice said, stifling a large yawn as she lifted her head from the cushions.

“It's late. I didn't want to wake you.” Izzy looked through the cupboards, and grabbed a snack bar, just something to keep the hunger pangs away after the long drive back, before heading over to the sofa and sitting down next to Alice. She picked up Freya and put the kitty on her lap, giving her a few strokes and scratches, before snuggling up to her paramour and resting her head on Alice's shoulder. Almost instantly, she felt the tiredness hit her, closing her eyes and speaking with a mere whisper.

“Took a lot out of me today...” Izzy felt something on her head, and tensed up for a brief moment, before she realised that it was Alice, playing with her hair. She allowed herself to drift off in the moment, imagining the scene from an outside perspective. Izzy, lying back with a cat on her lap, her best Wendy Corduroy style with her denim jeans, plaid shirt, and long red hair sprawled out around her. Alice, equally long hair sprawled out just as messily across the cushions, chestnut brown, framing a round and pretty face. Dressed in the most casual attire, black leggings and an oversized Wolf Alice t-shirt hiding a slim and slender frame. Alice gently stroking Izzy's hair, picking up strands and twirling them around, allowing her fingernails to gently run back and forth across her scalp, every touch sending a delicious shiver of pleasure down Izzy's spine.

Despite the general rules of the masquerade, Izzy had told Alice about the job she did, although she hadn't given all the full details. She'd had to clear it with Nightingale first, of course, but Peter had served as precedent to a degree – his parents knew at least the basics, even if his mother was proud of “her son the witch-finder”. Still, although they'd only been dating a few months, it didn't surprise Alice now when Izzy came home talking about demon traps and dusted phones, or the memorable time when she'd chased what she thought was a unicorn through Epping Forest only for it to turn out to be some kid's runaway soapbox car. Now was no exception, and Alice listened patiently as Izzy got the day's events off her chest, from the arrival in Herefordshire all the way up to their late night journey back to civilization. At least, as far as Londoners tended to call it.

“Rough day, then. Poor baby...” Alice's voice was one of sympathy, and love. She shifted her head as much as she could, to let her lips meet the top of Izzy's head, before holding her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. They stayed like that for a while longer, just happy to be together, until Izzy finally gathered the strength to lift herself up, and stand. She gave Alice a knowing look, and without a single word, kept hold of her hand, as she led the way to the bedroom. She knew she'd pay the price the next morning, by needing at least three cups of coffee before even daring to venture to the debrief with Nightingale, but for now she didn't care. She leaned in, and kissed Alice deeply and passionately, as they sank down into the soft covers and allowed the night to pass them by...

Nice work - bravo!

[Snapper]

@Trivun: nice one!

[Trivun]

Thanks all!

[jp1885]

Apologies for my silence - work’s a bit crazy at the moment.

I hope to start the next case file soon (I’m using you as guinea pigs, as I’m still writing it), so please can I have a roll call?

If I haven’t heard from you by Wednesday, I’ll assume you’re no longer interested and recruit some replacements if necessary

[Snapper]

Skipper is all present and as correct as he ever gets, ready to tackle the new threat.

[Trivun]

Izzy is all ready and willing to get stuck in, plenty more wrong'uns to go arrest or deal with!

[Philulhu]

I’m in, just not had chance to update Des yet!

[Mr. Handy]

Jordan's also ready to tackle the new threat...possibly literally...

[SaintMeerkat]

Leo is in. I am looking forward to helping burn down...err that is...solve another weird bollocks case.

[Snapper]

Skipper is going to buy every other member of the team one of those fly-spray sized fire extinguishers!

[Trivun]

Why do you think Izzy's been practising chucking magic water bombs for a doggo to catch?

[jp1885]

Looks like a full house then - awesome! I’ll start the ball rolling soon…

[Philulhu]

Des will bank her development point so she can study magic (or until she gets bored and decides to do something else…)

Luck re-roll: 2d10+50

No improvement to luck.

[Trivun]

Fun fact time! So I mention in Izzy's post that she dissected an "ox heart" at school... when I did GCSE Biology we had to dissect a heart and rather than the school providing them, they asked us all to bring in hearts from the local butchers - I now have a friend who works as a lab technician in a school in Manchester and he has to supply hearts from a local slaughterhouse for these classes, but my old school decided to be cheap and have us do it instead.

So, everyone else brought in pig or sheep hearts, which are fairly small. My mum went to a butcher near her office, and they had run out of anything smaller - all they had available were ox hearts, which are about 2 or 3 times the size of a sheep's heart. I had to keep it in my locker until the actual class began, then in class I was slicing open a massive heart while other kids near me were getting nauseous with the smell and the sight. I didn't actually finish cutting it up before the class ended because it was too big