Evening.

daddysapsychopath started following you

lieutenantsimonriley:

Who are you?

Jim Moriarty. And yourself?

daddysapsychopath started following you

lieutenantsimonriley:

“Evening,”

Good evening, my dear.

for-zakhaev:

lieutenantsimonriley:

for-zakhaev:

lieutenantsimonriley replied to your post: askdust replied to your post: This foolish Task…

Three, there’s three.

But as before, only one of us is “The real McCoy”. Which begs the question…what is the purpose of the other two’s being here?

I’d say it begs the question which one if the real one, you could be a puppet on someone’s string and not even know it.

I doubt that very much.

There are more players here than you know - some closer to you than you think - but rest assured, I am the one pulling the strings. No-one manipulates me. No-one. I answer to Zakhaev alone, and now that he is gone, I am a “wild card” - a rogue agent, so to speak.

Unplugged.

Ladies, please.

(Source: hough-x)

(Source: zomb-ie)

shazari:

Jim from IT and Seb from PR.

For the wonderful @has-a-type, my amazing Jim.

Seb’s cover job is working in the public relations department at Barts and the London, which involves entirely too much interacting with other people in an office setting for his liking, and not enough murdering people in an office environment for his liking.  His favorite pastime is ringing the IT department with a computer problem, then, when Jim is about halfway through troubleshooting the issue, sighing loudly and declaring that “this would be so much easier on my Mac.”  He smokes Kreteks and rides to work on a Vespa, and doesn’t actually need glasses — along with anything else he can do to ensure that his Seb from PR persona is an utter wang.

for-zakhaev:

Neither does anyone else, because they could not find enough of him to determine his cause of death.

Get the picture? 

Oh my. You grow more exciting by the minute.

The last man who was tied to my bed ended up with his entrails stacked on the floor and his heart as a rather lovely topper.

Hmm. Interesting, yet again.