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  1. Giorgio figures it would had to have happened sooner or later: getting caught, that is. They found him, asleep, naturally, with the person he was to be extracting information from, and his team no where in sight-- they must have ditched him and left him for dead. What pals. He's currently being held at Scotland Yard, and he wasted his one call on someone who /wasn't/ his father or his lawyer, so now he's stuck here. Illegal extraction is a felony, and Giorgio knows he could get up to twenty years for this. Today isn't exactly a good day.
  3. Bernard doesn't want to be outside right now, and he most certainly is not very happy that the entire reason he's outside is to hop on a train down to Westminster and liberate known criminals from the Met. He hates NSY, and he hates this Romano or whatever his stupid bloody dago name is, he whose colourful dossier has been doing the rounds at the Security Service for the past 5 years; he's not impressed by its contents, and by extension the man whose face he is currently staring at through bullet-proof glass right now. "Mr. Romano," he says, stiffly, a would-be impassible face marred by a faint scowl of disgust from having to show people his credentials fifty thousand times in the past five minutes. "My name is Agent Darling. I would say, 'pleased to meet you', but we both know that would be a lie."
  5. Giorgio is in the middle of contemplating whether he should be feeling sorry for himself for getting caught, vindicated for being left behind, or triumphant that he's managed to get away with illegal extraction for as long as he has. He's interrupted in the midst of all this when a cop pulls him from his cell, gruffly saying to him, "You have a visitor," and Giorgio's heart leaps. Surely it's his father, or one of his partners, or even Emiliana or Ferdinanda. He turns the corner, scanning the booths for a familiar face, but he's instead escorted to a pretty, miserable-looking thing. He sits, and blinks at the stranger's introduction, and his eyebrows shoot up as he slumps back in his chair. "Well, that's the right foot to get off on. Did my father send you?"
  7. Bernard ignores him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, and instead slips a thin, gloved hand into his suit pocket to retrieve a small briefing document, then slips it through the opening in the glass intended for this sort of thing. "The Security Service are interested in your /work/ --" he lets the word roll off his tongue with sardonic distate, "-- and wish to extend to you an offer of opportunity." Bernard looks him up and down, realises in a split second that Mr. Romano is /just his type/, and it takes a great deal of conscious effort not to blush furiously and look away. "This offer is not negotiable," he continues, blissfully unaware of the pretty pink tinge staining his cheeks, and stares squarely at him for an answer.
  9. Giorgio licks his lips, leaning forward to slide the document forward, knitting his eyebrows together, quickly scanning the piece of paper before tossing it back onto the table, looking up at the man across from him skeptically. "Really?" He folds his arms tight over his chest, looking very closed. "Doesn't this sort of thing only happen in movies? I get a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card to come work for the government?" He thinks about this for a second. His pride tells him not to concede to this suit's offer, however "non-negotiable" it may be, but he doesn't really have a choice in the matter, now does he? It's this or spend 20 years as someone's prison-bitch. Still, he's stubborn, so he just stalls: "What does the government want with me?"
  11. Bernard bristles at him, buttoning his suit jacket up fussily. "The MI5 operate independently of the government," he deadpans, staring at him, "and I'm not here to answer your bloody questions. You'll be picked up by another officer at nineteen hundred hours and I'll be seeing to you when you arrive." He puffs himself up a little, feeling important and dangerous, and stares at Giorgio long and hard, though this only manages to make him feel incredibly flustered because he totally was not prepared for his criminal pick-up to be a handsome, rough-around-the-edges Italian with a half-open shirt.
  13. Giorgio blinks at him, sitting up a little when Bernard stands suddenly. "What," he says at this, caught by surprise that their conversation be cut short so soon. He narrows his eyes a bit, and almost thinks to challenge this agent and his offer, tilting his head and snatching up the document to look at it again. He screws up his face, unsure of what to say, or do, in this sort of situation, so he just stands, since he figures their conversation is over. "Well, I'll be seeing you real soon then, Darling," he smiles at the man behind the glass, humorlessly, and gives him a little wink before turning and returning to the officer, folding up the document and tucking it into his shirt pocket.
  15. ---
  17. Bernard has had the forger on his mind the entire day, and no matter what he does or however boring his research is he just cannot manage to shake the image of him, /winking/, and it annoys him more than he'd like to admit. As such, he's not in a brilliant mood as he's led into one of the brightly-lit briefing rooms over at Thames House to meet with Giorgio, a handgun tucked inside his jacket pocket, all neat and dangerous lines in his pretentiously tailored three-piece. "Stand up and take off your shirt," he says without even introducing himself or saying 'hello', knitting his eyebrows somewhat at how dirty the command sounds, even if it /is/ procedure; Bernard demands to personally frisk any outside collaborators, regardless where they came from.
  19. Giorgio is glad to be out of the dreary police station, even if it is only to be transferred, in handcuffs and armoured car and all to Thames House. It isn't until he's safely secured inside a room with offensively bright flourescent lighting that the cuffs are removed from him and he's forced to sit at a table and wait, for what, he doesn't know. It's promptly seven o'clock on the dot (he knows, because he looks at his watch) when Agent Bernard Darling is let into the room by some other official-looking folk. He stands, assuming Bernard is going to shake his hand, and he moves around the table to do this, but he's just instructed, quite forcibly, to remove his shirt. He looks at Darling with a shocked expression, idly raising a hand to undo the buttons to his shirt. "Why, Darling, we hardly know each other," he murmurs, opening his bright, patterned shirt and tossing it onto the table behind him. "But I /do/ like it when they're forward."
  21. Bernard pulls a pair of plastic gloves from his jacket pocket and pulls them on, watching him remove his shirt with what he hopes is a dispassionate look, mouth a stern and (hopefully) unimpressed line. "Don't flatter yourself, this is standard procedure," he sniffs, striding past him to lay the man's hideous shirt out on the table, feeling inside the pockets quickly before turning his attention to Giorgio himself in all his dark, well-muscled glory. Bernard does have the decency to go a little pink at the half-naked Italian in front of him, however, stalling briefly to stare quite unprofessionally at his chest. It takes him a few seconds to remember himself, though, and he hitches back the infamous Bernard Darling Scowl, turning him this way and that and lifting his arms and then kneeling pat along his inseam. Once he's satisfied Giorgio is completely and utterly unarmed Bernard stands up, sniffs as if he was unimpressed by what he just had to experience, and struts over to the table.
  23. Giorgio smirks to himself, rolling his tongue in his mouth, cooperating with Bernard, only because he's too busy regarding him with fond, interested looks. He looks so disgruntled and flustered to be dealing with what is obviously not his first frisk. He hitches a grin when he catches him staring at his chest, and turns his head, just standing, feet shoulder-width apart when Bernard searches him, as if he was familiar with this procedure. "What are you looking for, drugs?" he asks, striding over to pull his shirt back on, undoing his belt to tuck it in. "I assure you, I haven't touched any since I was a twenty-something, I'm over that phase."
  25. Bernard frowns at him and sits down, removing his gloves politely. "You know quite well I wasn't looking for drugs, Mr. Romano," he says, a little disappointed that Giorgio decided to put his shirt back on, so he goes straight to business. "As I assume you already know," - he's referring to the briefing document he gave him earlier - "I need a forger with me to perform a particularly tricky extraction on behalf of the GCHQ regarding some rather worrisome encryptions," he waves his hand dismissively, as if Giorgio is too stupid to understand such complex stuff and will save him the brainache by not explaining it, though he knows the man is nothing of the sort. "You'll be working with me in Cheltenham for the next two months in a rented house. You'll be chipped and monitored, of course, and I have clearance to shoot you if you misbehave." He pouts, turning his nose up. "For some reason my superior thought me the likeliest candidate from all my colleagues to keep you in line." Agent Darling doesn't like to think about that. He knows the Service does its research well.
  27. Giorgio grins back at the man across from him, sitting down. "Ah, so you just wanted to cop a feel," he says, and leans back in his seat, buttoning his shirt up to his chest, losing his smile as soon as Bernard gets started on the details of what he's been "hired" for. "What encryptions?" he asks, and then, grumpily, "What if I don't want to be a forger for you?" He scowls, and drapes his arm overt he back of his chair, looking all too much like a childish delinquent, gesturing and looking off. "Especially if you're going to collar me like a damn dog." He looks at Bernard again, and barks a laugh, though it's humourless. "And shoot me, Christ!" He shakes his head and grins sourly. "I had a life outside of extraction, you know," he looks at him again. "I'm a forger, not a /murderer/."
  29. Bernard pulls his black leather gloves out of his pocket and pulls them on, regarding Giorgio moodily, wondering why the hell /he/ had to do the legwork here when his superiors damn well know he's a field agent and not trained in trying to convince stubborn criminals to work with him. Bernard's not good at getting people who aren't easily-charmed women to do things for him, which is why he works for the MI5 and not the SIS. "I'm not telling you anything /now/," he says, folding his arms. "Is twenty -- no, thirty -- years in prison really preferable to working and living with me for two months, Mr. Romano? /Really?/" Bernard sounds a little offended, and leans back in his chair.
  31. Giorgio swears under his breath, turning his head and looking off completely disgruntled, though silent, because he know he has nothing to challenge him with. He rubs at his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, and then pinches the bridge of his nose. "No," he says wearily, "No, I suppose not." He lifts his head to look at him, defeated, and then pulls his chair up to the table, leaning forward on it to look his new partner in the eyes. "But if I'm going to be working /with/ you, I demand to be at least treated as such," he taps his finger on the table infront of them. "I'm to be your colleague, /not/ your prisoner." He tilts his head, pausing a moment before adding, "It's only fair, Darling." He shifts up, and leans back in his seat again, steepling his fingers at his mouth, leering at him."And I'll be needing a few of my possessions: my cell phone, my PC, and /clothes/, for starters." He raises his eyebrows and gestures out a little, "Unless you'll be supplying me with new ones," he says lightly, none too adversed about this idea.
  33. Bernard shifts back even further when Giorgio starts to lean on the table, somewhat flustered over just how difficult the man is being. "You'll do as I say," he says, rigidly, mouth rearranging itself into a thin, threatening line, which contrasts quite interestingly with the blush adorning his cheeks. "I'm armed and I'm quite dangerous, you know, so don't play up, sir. I'll have to assess your subconscious once we have the PASIV up and running, too, so do try to rid yourself of any unwanted or embarrassing emotions about this whole thing before we get started." Bernard blinks at Giorgio's blatant leer, voice trailing off for a moment- "Erm, yes, we seized all that when you were apprehended. I believe it's already on its way, though I'll have to examine it all thoroughly before I can let you use it."
  35. Giorgio 's mood plummets again. Just when he thinks he's got the upper hand, Darling shoots him down. It looks like he /will/ be nothing but a dog forced to work for the government. MI5. Whatever. "Good to know you're so eager to gun down an unarmed, defenseless man," he hisses bitterly, and turns his head to look elsewhere again, only looking more furious at the agent's next riveting news. "You're 
  36. [02:49] <Giorgio>  going to asses my subconscious," he tosses his head up, rolling his eyes, "Lovely." He turns to face him again, glaring at him. "And you're going to look through my things?" He clenches a fist, dipping his head and pressing his lips to his knuckles thoughtfully, to contain his anger, but then he just slams his hand on the desk in outrage. "Damn it!" he growls at him. "This is why I'd never work  for the fucking government, you're all /control freaks!/"
  38. Bernard flinches just a little at Giorgio's blatant display of outrage, trying not to pout. This wasn't going very well, he thinks, but -- damnit -- why should /he/ have to pander to bally degenerates and criminals? It's not fair. "Stop it," he half whines in frustration. "I don't want to work with you /either/, but you don't hear me complaining." Bernard shoots him a scandalized look when he slams down on the table, shifting his chair back abruptly. "Don't worry, /sir/," he drawls sardonically, "I shan't be too invasive."
  40. Giorgio folds his arms tight over his chest, and stares at Bernard intensely for the next couple of seconds, slumped in his seat and looking much like a child who's been put in time out. And then he sniffs, lifting his head a little imperiously. "Will I be getting paid for this?" he pulls himself back up, and leans forward on the table again. "Or are you a bunch of cheap bastards with the excuse  that 'getting me out of prison is payment enough, Mr. Romano.'" He tenses his shoulders, and keeps his eyes pinned on the man in front of him. "Give me some fucking /incentive/ to work for you pigs."
  42. Bernard tosses his head somewhat and sniffs, tugging a sleeve up to bare a thin, pale wrist and a rather expensive rotary watch, which he peers at. "I don't have the clearance to tell you that," he says, a little stuffily, turning slightly pink as if he were embarrassed by the fact. Instead of giving him a legitimate answer he instead picks up the folder he carried in earlier and flicks through it, showing Giorgio his own mugshot with a rather amused look, and starts to read. "It says here that you are 'charismatic and self-satisfied'," says Bernard, lip curling. "Though 'somewhat aggressive.' How charming. Are you a homosexual?" 
  44. Giorgio groans at his answer, and just leans back in his chair, frustratedly, and impatiently, as if Bernard wasting /his/ time rather than the other way around. He tips back his chair, slouching, and chews distractedly at his side of his thumb, peering at the agent when he opens the document infront of them. At first, he's interested, because he thinks Bernard is going to debrief him, but then he just shows him his mugshot, to further humiliate him. He sinks forward until all four legs of the chair are back on the floor, and he rests his elbow on the table and his chin in the palm of his head. "I am. Is that going to be an issue, /Darling/?" he inclines his head a little, giving him a pointed gaze.
  46. Bernard keeps quiet for a few minutes as he re-reads Giorgio's case file, eyebrows knitting together when he finds the hastily-scribbled notes pinned in at the end of it detailing Giorgio's material possessions. He's surprised to hear him answer in the affirmative, head jerking up to stare at him- it was a humiliation tactic, Bernard didn't actually expect him to be legitimately fucking gay. "No," he hisses in a somewhat strangled voice, blushing. "Just, well- /no/. But. I'm not- you know. A homosexual." Right.
  48. Giorgio manages a wide, white grin at Bernard's reaction to his sexuality, his head lifting upright in interest at his flustered response. "Nobody said you were, Agent Darling," he purrs, and suddenly his raucous attitude and pissed off demeanor have disappeared, in favor of a more suave, patient one. He eyes Bernard not unlike a hawk, or a shark, or any kind of predator, really, and drums his fingers on the table. "Do you have a girlfriend?" he tilts his head and lowers his eyes in an obvious gesture that he's noticed that Bernard's ring finger is bare.
  50. Bernard blinks and swallows, staring at Giorgio. "No. My job-" he starts to say, and then thinks better of informing a notorious and troublesome criminal forger of the particularities of his love life, and stops, mouth reverting back to an uncomfortable line. "We'll be living together, so. Yes. Please refrain from doing- whatever homosexuals do- around me, because." Bernard vaguely realises he is cocking this up, but his cheeks are hot and he's feeling somewhat light-headed. "It's inappropriate." 
  52. Giorgio eyes Bernard, raising his eyebrows immediately at "no," but they quickly lower, trying to retain at least a /little/ tact instead of just jumping him like a horny schoolboy. "If you put your job before sex, you're never going to get any," he barks out a laugh, and it's his first genuine laugh of the day. His shoulders continue to shake with amusement as he tries to keep himself quiet as Bernard lays down the law of the household, and because Bernard is so flushed and embarrassed, it only makes the struggle harder. Even his eyes are smiling. "Right, I'll make sure not to have any wild blood orgies when you're home," he says while containing laughter. "Because that's what homosexuals do."
  54. Bernard stands up abruptly and gathers his files, wearing a look of utter scandalized embarrassment, and tucks them under his arm. "Good- well, Mr. Romano," he starts, looking down at him, stomach flipping lazily at the sight of him grinning lecherously. /Fuck/. "I have the contents of your personal computer to attend to." Bernard knows Giorgio's PC isn't to be arriving for at least another twenty minutes, but he'll have an aneurism if he stays here. "You'll be debriefed by my colleague and I'll be seeing you in Cheltenham at thirteen hundred hours tomorrow -- do try to behave." With this he turns neatly on his heel and struts out, legs shaking slightly.
  56. ----
  58. Giorgio yawns as he's escorted out of the police vehicle which he's been stuffed in for the better half of the morning. He stretches his legs, and rolls his head to stretch his neck, and looks up at the house they've parked at. Looks like this is where he would be living for the next couple of months. It was quaint, at least. The night before, they had chipped him, conducting a surgery to insert a microchip implant in the area between his thumb and forefinger. Surely, this sort of bullshit had to have been against his basic human rights, but no amount of raging and resistance aided Giorgio in the end. His hand is sore, and still bandaged from surgery, but he manages to put it out of his head for now, peering around for Bernard to show up impeccably on time. 
  60. Bernard is already there, actually; he made sure to get there a few hours early to sort and stock the place, claiming the master bedroom with the walk-in wardrobe. It's already filled with expensive suits and Ralph Lauren jumpers and all manner of £800 shoes just in case, you know, they have to go outside in the next two months. Which, aside from food shopping, they won't. When Bernard hears the car pull up he sighs, wincing somewhat at the thought of his and Giorgio's little talk they had yesterday evening, and begrudgingly hauls himself up from the kitchen table and his newspaper to get the door.
  62. Giorgio waits outside with the police, fiddling with his shirt buttons, desperately wanting a shower, first thing, and to change into fresh clothes. Maybe he can talk the stuffy agent into taking him out to dinner, on the premise that he owes him, or something. When Bernard opens the door he peers up, and drops his hands to his sides, pausing a moment before turning to each officer, shaking their hands with his good one. "Well, signori, it was a pleasure riding in a cramped car with you all morning, but at last we must bid each other arrivederci." He moves to squeeze past Bernard into the house, but an officer yanks him back by his arm, and he growls. The officers speak with Bernard for a moment, checking to see if there was anything more they could do before they left Giorgio under his supervision, before parting, each tipping their caps to the agent politely before getting in their car and pulling out. 
  64. Bernard looks thoroughly miffed all throughout the proceedings, bidding the officers a curt good day once it's over and shoving Giorgio inside. He takes care to flick the latch on the inside of the door, effectively locking them in with each over. "You're sleeping in the guest room," he says dispassionately, resuming his seat at the table so he can finish his tea and paper. The less exposure he has to this man the better his sanity, he thinks, utterly ignoring Giorgio so he can get to work in dipping Rich Tea biscuits into his tea.
  66. Giorgio makes a loud, offended noise when Bernard unceremoniously shoves him inside. He steps away from him and brushes himself off, glaring at him as he goes about his business. He stares at him for a good few seconds, watching him sip at his tea and eat his biscuits and read his paper and /ignore him/, before growing fed up very quickly and climbing the stairs, hopping two at a time, looking for his room. He stumbles upon the master bedroom, peering in and taking note of Bernard's things carefully arranged here and there, and mutters to himself, "Of course," before entering his significantly smaller bedroom, immediately gravitating towards a couple boxes of his things, digging through one to procure some clothes to change into.
  68. Bernard lifts his eyes from his paper slightly to watch Giorgio climb the stairs, sipping thoughtfully from his mug of tea. Bloody cheeky fucker, he thinks, seemingly not aware that he was being even ruder, but then again -- why should a rigorously-trained MI5 agent feel any obligation to pander to deranged criminals? Damn right, he thinks, and goes back to his tea.
  70. Giorgio spends a few moments going through his things in his boxes, bringing out his laptop, and his cellphone, which he finds is dead. He anxiously plugs it in to be charged, and grabs his things, briskly walking to the bathroom for a shower. He goes through the careful process of unwrapping the bandage around his hand, staring grimly at his stitches as he climbs into the shower, and learns that washing yourself one-handed is a lot more trying than he would have ever thought it to be. He finishes, dries himself and dresses, returning to his bedroom to quickly fiddle with his laptop and cellphone, desperately wanting to get in contact with his father or sisters.
  72. Bernard has already done his fair share of poking around in Giorgio's stuff, even taking the opportunity to throw out some particularly hideous shirts of his. There is no way Bernard is going to allow someone to wear /paisley/ within fifteen meters of him. Bernard is soon done with his paper, and he checks his watch -- it's just past one thirty, and he wonders whether Mr. Romano has had lunch yet. Not that /he/ was going to make it, no sir.
  74. Giorgio sits on the floor, at the foot of his bed, and quietly dials up his sister, peering at his door to make sure Bernard wasn't /spying/ on him or something. He quickly crawls over to the door and shuts it, locking it, and then moves to safety as he hides behind his bed. Ferdinanda answers the phone, and he quickly hisses into it, lifting his head to peer across his bed at the door in his paranoia. "It's me," he says in a low voice, staring at the door. "I won't be coming home for a while, I'm stuck in England." A pause. "A couple months--" he drops back down behind the bed. "Yes, it has to do with my job--" he raises his voice a little. "It's /not/ illegal this time, I'm working for the British Secret Service." He gestures out a little. "I don't have time to explain! They /bugged/ me." Another pause. "Tell papa and Emiliana for me, so they don't worry when I don't come home." He's quiet, and then adds, "Tell them not to call, either, I can't run up my cell phone bill making all these long-distance calls." 
  76. Bernard resists the urge to poke in on Giorgio and eavesdrop, and gets up to shove some crumpets in the toaster, nudging his neatly-folded newspaper into the rack. It's all a bit awkward for Bernard who, aside from his rarely-seen roommate at university, has never actually lived with anyone other than his immediate family -- though there was that time he had to share the bed of whats-her-face from Information Tech when they were doing a job down in Moscow -- wait. /Nevermind/. Bernard furiously pushes the thought away, and hauls himself up on the counter, waiting for Giorgio to come down.
  78. Giorgio quickly and quietly wraps up his short conversation with his sister, hanging up and pushing his phone into his pocket, getting up and brushing himself off as if nothing just happened. He strides over to his door and unlocks it, pulling it open slowly and peering out the crack to see if Bernard was lurking close, which he wasn't, so he struts out, hopping down the stairs to find Bernard sitting on the counter like a child. "...shall we get something to eat?" he asks, walking over to him and leaning on the table across from him. "I think you owe me dinner." 
  79. 04[19:13] * Bernard rolls his eyes and yanks the crumpets from the toaster, chucking them on a plate and spreading them liberally with cream cheese. "The fridge and cupboards are stocked adequately," he sniffs, taking a bite out of his crumpet and managing to get cream cheese on his nose, frowning and wiping it off, flushing slightly. "Tonight, maybe. Make some toast if you're hungry."
  81. Giorgio watches him, then groans and scoffs at him, moving past him to pull open cupboards, scowling, and then goes to the fridge, opening it and looking through it. He gives up on finding anything actually appetizing, grabbing a hunk of mozzarella and moving over to pull out drawers until he finds a knife, cutting off slices and popping them into his mouth. "We're going to need to buy more fresh produce," he comments, and then turns his back on Bernard, figuring he'll hole himself in his room.
  83. Bernard stares at Giorgio in disdain at his blatant mistreatment of what is probably v. expensive Marks & Spencers mozzarella, clearing his throat and assuming a rather imperious expression as he eats his philly on crumpets, obviously a delicacy unknown to brutish Italian plebians. "/I'll/ be doing the shopping, thank you," he sniffs, sucking a bit of cheese from his fingers. "I'll not have you filling the fridge with pepperamis and Dolmio and 99p lasagnes or whatever it is you buggers eat."
  85. Giorgio stops, and turns around to look at him, eyebrows raised and grinning despite how obviously offended he looks. "I hope you're joking," he manages to say, busying his hands with cutting off another slice of mozzarella, "I said /produce/, as in onions, garlic, tomatoes, /fresh/ bread, things I can actually make food with!" He gestures out with the knife aggravatedly. "Not this shitty bread and crumpets and-- whatever this /garbage/ is that you eat."
  87. Bernard would probably look offended if, really, he cared what his unwelcome new partner thought, so he just tosses his head and sticks his nose up and goes right back to eating his crumpets. "There're enough groceries in there to last a week or two; try looking in the vegetable drawer before complaining." He sniffs, and lets himself down from the counter, turning his back to Giorgio so he can fiddle with the coffee machine.
  89. Giorgio scowls, and drops the mozzarella and the knife on the table, leaving it there for Bernard to clean up, folding his arms over his chest and watching him for a few seconds. He just then hitches a smirk, and laughs to himself, throwing his hands up and letting them fall limp at his sides. "I'm going to starve here." He shakes his head, grinning bitterly, turning to walk back to his room, before pausing and looking at him. "Do we have internet, here?"
  91. Bernard looks a bit taken aback at his ridiculous little display, and folds his arms guardedly. "You're not going to starve here," he pouts, a little annoyed at Giorgio's blatant dismissal of his carefully-selected hoard of food. Bernard gives a little sniff and turns to clear the mess, wondering if he should just ignore Giorgio all the times he doesn't have to work with him. "Of course we do. The network address and key is on the back of the router, but your -- /our/ -- usage will be monitored."
  93. Giorgio watches him, observing the little nuances in his body language, tilting his head and subtly mimicking it, crossing his own arms and straightening his posture a little. He lifts his hand to scratch his cheek, raising his eyebrows at him, lowering his voice back to a polite level. "Monitored how?" he asks, trying to sound like he's not at all concerned whether someone would be peeking in on his browsing history and the amount of gay pornography he looks at.
  95. Bernard snorts and daintily washes up the knife Giorgio was using, drying his wet hands with the tea-towel once he's done. "I'll be checking the router logs every now and then -- the Service, of course, will be actively monitoring usage." He neglects to mention that he doesn't actually know the extent of this, but he doesn't want to look stupid in front of Giorgio. "You're not going to be downloading illegal pornography, are you?" Bernard asks him drily.
  97. Giorgio nods a little, leaning up against the door frame of the kitchen; Bernard's response is a lot better than what he expected. Thank Christ there won't be any little "parental control" features implemented. He drums his fingers against the doorframe, looking thoughtful. He really doubted the Service gave any shits whether he downloaded any gay porn or not. He raises his eyes to Bernard, looking at him innocently. "No, of course not," he replies, and then he grins wickedly at him.
  99. Bernard looks completely taken aback by Giorgio's wicked grin; it takes him a while to process it, but when he does he has the decency to turn a very embarrassing shade of crimson. "Just -- I don't want to see any of it, thank you!" Bernard makes a swift turn and starts shoving things back into the fridge, thoroughly flustered. He's not thick, and the inevitability of coming across bizarre pornography on the internet has unfortunately not escaped Bernard, so he's well aware of the sort of stuff Giorgio might potentially be downloading. Oh dear, he thinks, shoving the mozarella behind the vegetable drawer rather maliciously, I'm working with a /deviant/.
  101. Giorgio chuckles at his face, and then laughs at him, leaning his head against the door frame. He shakes with laughter, pushing off from the door frame and looking at him pointedly, backing up towards the stairs. "Then don't come looking through my laptop." He raises his eyebrows at him, still grinning wide, and deviously. "You're welcome to watch some with me!" He calls in a sing-song voice as he climbs the stairs, wandering into Bernard's room, where he assume the router is. Pausing, he peers over his shoulder, just as a precaution, before quietly pulling open desk drawers and snooping through them.
  103. Bernard frowns at Giorgio's ridiculous offer and slams the fridge shut, grabbing a croissant from the box on the side and chewing on it mopily, too disgruntled and traumatised by his partner to want to leave the kitchen. So there he stays, hauling himself up on the counter again like a child, peeling bits off of his croissant fussily until he either manages to regain some enthusiasm for the job, or Giorgio returns to bother him again. Hmph.
  105. Giorgio occasionally glances up, just to make sure Bernard isn't going to be coming around the corner at any given second, still quietly going through his things. He gets braver, opening the drawers to his nightstand, and even going through his wardrobe. He doesn't find anything particularly interesting, but from observing his scarce belongings he can gather a few things about Bernard, even if most of it is stuff he already knew. Giving up on snooping, he just takes a little walk around Bernard's room, before retrieving the information he needs from the back of the router and returning to his room to find some sweet, sweet solace in the internet for a couple hours.
  107. Giorgio hey, I'm just watching some gay porn and having a wank, ok what do you want. He finishes up, cleans himself up, and finally returns back into the kitchen, where Bernard is still stuffing his face. He scratches his head and folds his arms. "Do you actually do anything, or do you just patrol the kitchen all day?"
  109. Bernard folds his arms, looking defensive, though he gives Giorgio a good look-over as if to try and ascertain what he's just been doing. "I was waiting for you!" he huffs, mutinously, unimpressed with having his time wasted. "Did /you/ actually go and do something useful, or did you just sit in your bedroom and watch horrible pornography for two hours?"
  111. Giorgio smirks at him, and wanders to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair and sitting down, looking up at him with his hands neatly folded ontop of the table. "What do you think?" he purrs, and then scowls a little. "What would you have me do? I assume I can't /leave/ this wretched place." He crosses his legs, staring at him. "What were you waiting for me for?"
  113. Bernard glares at him for being cheeky, and pulls the parallel chair out to sit down in, folding his own hands. "I need to go through PASIV regulations with you and do a once-over of your subconscious to assess your suitability for this job." He sniffs, assuming a stern, impassive look. "Doubtless you've only worked with faulty black market bootlegs before. I don't want you fucking this thing up."
  115. Giorgio stares at him when he sits across from him, his eyebrows coming together a little. He was hoping to avoid this for as long as possible. He clears his throat, slowly leaning back in his chair, and sighs, looking at the table and drumming his fingers on it. "Is it /really/ necessary to have a look through my subconcious?" He growls a little, and drops his hands to his lap. "I've never fucked up before, so /why/ would I fuck up now." 
  117. Bernard leans back and raises his eyebrows, folding his arms and grunting. "Don't be a child," he growls, unfolding an arm to flick an imaginary speck of dust from his jumper. "How on earth do I know you're to be trusted? I don't approve of this whole bloody clusterfuck in the first place, at least grant me /some/ peace of mind, here, Mr. Romano."
  119. Giorgio groans, and does everything but pout like a stubborn little boy, lifting his hands to scrub at his face. "Fine," he says irritably, peeking through his fingers at Bernard and glaring. He leans forward onto the table, crossing his arms, and staring at him pointedly. "Let's get this over with, then. What do I do?" To be honest, he's a bit nervous about Bernard entering his dreams, and he really doesn't know what his mind is going to throw at him. He'll have to be extra careful about keeping things in control.
  121. Giorgio groans, and does everything but pout like a stubborn little boy, lifting his hands to scrub at his face. "Fine," he says irritably, peeking through his fingers at Bernard and glaring. He leans forward onto the table, crossing his arms, and staring at him pointedly. "Let's get this over with, then. What do I do?" To be honest, he's a bit nervous about Bernard entering his dreams, and he really doesn't know what his mind is going to throw at him. He'll have to be extra careful about keeping things in control.
  123. Bernard glares at him coolly and slides his carton of cigarettes over, plucking out a fag and popping it in his mouth. "It'll just be a routine assessment," he murmurs around his cigarette, lighting it with a snap of his zippo lighter, "if you find yourself /overwhelmed/, I shan't hold it against you if you decide to make an appropriate exit. I assume you have a working totem?"
  125. Giorgio sighs, and rubs his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, getting up from his chair. "Please don't smoke, it gives me a headache," he mumbles, still aggravated that they actually have to go through with this. He rests his hands on his hips, and raises his eyebrows at him, nodding his head and rolling his eyes a little. "Yes, yes, I have a totem, let's get on with it, shall we?" He looks at Bernard expectantly, then makes a big show of looking at his watch, like he has something better to do. "Where will we be doing this?"
  127. Bernard ignores the bitching about his cigarette, but he does have a look at the ceiling to check for smoke alarms. Blasted smoking ban. "Well, seen as you're so /eager/," he drawls sardonically, getting up and having a nice, lazy stretch before striding off into the small, lockable room set aside for the PASIV machine. "Sit down," he barks at what he assumes will be Giorgio entering the room shortly after him. "I want to get this out of the way."
  129. Giorgio 's lip curls into a sneer when he ignores his request, brushing himself off and eyeing him when he stretches, rubbing the back of his neck. He makes a point to steal a quick glance at his ass as he struts out, following him into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He raises a hand angrily to Bernard as he strides in, sitting down and crossing his legs, glancing to the PASIV machine, and exposing his wrist. "How long will we be going under? Five minutes, ten?" He leans back, looking up at him.
  131. Bernard flicks his cigarette out of the window before shutting it closed, pulling the curtains across. "Ten, twenty, maybe," he sniffs, striding back to fiddle with the combination on the front of the suitbox. He soon has it open, and grabs a handful of wires, looking over at him with raised eyebrows. "Oh, I'm sorry, is this a waste of time for you? I do apologise. You obviously have a lot of work to be getting on with," he smirks, biting his lip smugly. "All that pornography to watch." 
  133. Giorgio just grins snidely back at him. "Oh, hee hee, you're so /funny/," he snarls, watching him fiddle with the wires, tilting his head a little and mumbling. "At least /all that pornography/ is more entertaining than this." He shifts up a little, and toys with his watch quietly, waiting for Bernard to hurry up with organizing everything, kicking off his shoes and moving onto his back. "Are you sure you still want to go into my subconcious? Who knows what /depraved/ things you might see in there." 
  135. Bernard rolls his eyes and decides to just ignore the attitude; he's too professional for this shit, and isn't particularly in the mood. Granted, Bernard is 'not in the mood' 90% of the time, which is great for his job but unfortunately quite damaging to his social life. Not that Bernard gives much of a toss. "I'm sure I'll manage," he says drily, pushing the needle from the dream machine into Giorgio's forearm with more care than really the man deserves, then does the same to himself, sitting down in one of the armchairs.
  137. Giorgio eyes him, toying with his wrist watch, then just settles into the settee he's laying on, shutting his eyes and holding his wrist out to Bernard. He never likes to look at the needly go into his skin, it gives him the heebie jeebies. He figures it's better to not know when it's coming than to anticipate it. He tenses a little when the needle pricks his skin, and then quickly relaxes as his body gives in to sleep.
  139. Bernard isn't particulary stoked to go poking about in Giorgio's potentially dangerous and depraved dreamworld, but, well, /business/. He shudders a little as the sedative gets to work and lurches over to get the machine working, and a few seconds later he's out like a light, following Giorgio in.
  141. Giorgio stands at the end of a dock, on a busy sea port. The sun is bright, and wind is a gentle breeze. Giorgio lifts a hand and squints at the horizonline, then back at the beach behind him, before his gaze falls on a small sail boat tied to the dock. He grins to himself, kneeling down to untie it. "Ah, good, I didn't fuck it up," he mumbles to himself, holding onto the rope as he carefully climbs into the boat, kneeling down to cuff his chinos above his ankles.
  143. Bernard struts out of a beachside bar five minutes later with a bottle of Peroni, looking oddly native in a clean, crisp linen suit with the shirt partially unbuttoned. He strides down the beach to find Giorgio, giving his pitiful little sailboat a disdainful look. "You're Italian," is all he says, raising an eyebrow. "Of course." Bernard sighs, and looks back across the port, sucking on the rim of his dream-beer. "Everything seems to be in order. No murderous projections with uzis."
  145. Giorgio raises an eyebrow at him, holding the rope. He tenses a little at his judgmental look, narrowing his eyes a little at his remark about him being Italian, even though he doesn't say anything rude. He turns his head and stares out at the port, squinting because of the sun, and counts to ten to calm down. How dare he insult his dream-Naples? He drops his head and shakes it a little, letting the rope fall out of his hands. "Of course there aren't, I'm not a psychopath." He looks up, hands on his hips. "Psychopaths don't dream." 
  147. Bernard raises his eyebrows at Giorgio's offended look and downs the rest of his beer, chucking the bottle. "But you're a criminal," he reminds him, glaring back at one of the projections who obviously has taken great offence at Bernard's littering, before giving him a nudge with his foot. "Aren't you going to show me around?" He murmurs, buttoning up his open shirt. "I must say, I did have a nasty feeling we'd end up in some -- deviant /club./ Thank christ you have some tact."
  149. Giorgio chews his lip, glaring up at Bernard from his spot on the sailboat, just as unhappy with his littering as his projection is. He sighs, folding his arms over his chest. "Have I done anything to give you the impression that I'm a gun-toting maniac?" He looks at him with a raised eyebrow, and then looks down with a grin, shoving his hands in his pockets and tonguing his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Yeah, I struggled with a club or a hotel bedroom, and then decided on something a little more /family friendly." He smirks up at him, and then lifts his hand in a gesture for Bernard to help him out of the boat. "Okay, I'll show you around if you're actually interested." 
  151. Bernard looks faintly unimpressed at Giorgio's current behaviour, but nonetheless helps him out of the boat. "A hotel bedroom?" he sniffs, assuming an expression halfway between disgusted and scandalised. "Really, Giorgio? And to think I just commented on your tact." Bernard sighs, kicking sand over his bottle politely, before striding off the beach with his Italian partner in tow.
  153. Giorgio grins at him as he climbs onto the dock, giving him a pat on the back before striding up the beach by his side. "Learn to take a joke," he comments, looking around and grinning, looking all too happy to be in a familiar environment, even if he knew it was just a dream. "Or deal with the fact that I'm flirting with you." He's quiet for a couple minutes, smirking still, before looking at his partner. "Do you know where we are?"
  155. Bernard frowns and goes somewhat pink, brushing his trousers down unnecessarily once they reach the street. "Well, stop. Not this, I mean -" Bernard is aware how flustered he is but unfortunately can't bring himself to just shut up - "Flirting. Don't do that." Christ almighty. He ducks inside the bar he emerged from twenty minutes ago, and claims himself a small table at the very back. "No. Somewhere in Italy," he sniffs, plucking the wine list from the table holder, which is, of course, in Italian. "Fetch me another bottle of that stuff, would you?"
  157. Giorgio chuckles deeply, looking around as he flusters and stammers. He says nothing, and promises nothing, looking around when they enter the bar, following him to the table, but he doesn't sit, because he knows he's going to have to fetch drinks. "Right," he says distractedly, observing the bar, and he looks incredibly homesick for a second, before walking up to the bar to order a Peroni for Bernard, and a Manhattan for himself. He returns a couple minutes later with their drinks, sitting across from him. "We're in Napoli, my hometown."
  159. Bernard 's eyebrows shoot right up when Giorgio returns from the bar with a bloody /cocktail/ in tow, looking around him uneasily. "Beachside bars in Naples serve Manhattans, Mr. Romano?" He mutters, taking his own, standard beer and swigging from it. Nothing peculiar about Europeans drinking beer. "I'm not sure I like the way you do things, sir. A little risky. Not at all like I'd imagined your  /style/ to be."
  161. Giorgio raises his eyebrows at him, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a generous sip of the cocktail. "Is that strange to you?" he looks around when Bernard does, not quite sure what he's looking for. "It's a bar, of course they sell cocktails," he regards him oddly, taking another sip. "This isn't like your English pubs, Darling." He sets his drink down on the napkin in front of him, bringing his eyebrows together at Bernard's sudden critcism, before looking up and folding his arms and leaning them on the table. "What are you talking about?"
  163. Bernard gives him a dirty look and leans back, thoroughly annoyed that despite all his training and all the things he's been taught about dreams and violent projections and never borrowing familiar architecture, Giorgio probably knows what he's doing, the sneaky fucker. "You know exactly what I mean," he sniffs, polishing off his beer. "Dream us somewhere better. And don't call me 'Darling'."
  165. Giorgio stares at him, mouth slightly ajar, but he's still grinning, looking a little gobsmacked at Bernard's rudeness, though not entirely surprised. "What the hell is your problem?" he raises his eyebrows, and his voice. A couple projections turn their heads and stare, sensing Giorgio's hostility. "This is fine, I'm not going to go through the effort of trying to actually change my dream /setting/ just to make you happy." He stands, adjusting his shirt, and tonguing his cheek, grinning and shaking his head, but he's obviously pissed. "Go fuck yourself, /Darling/."
  167. Bernard honestly doesn't think he's being rude at all -- after all, this /is/ an assessment. Some level of criticism is, as always, necessary. "I beg your pardon?" Bernard looks absolutely incredulous - and maybe somewhat let-down, too. "Is this -- was that really necessary," he hisses mutinously, getting up with him and pulling his cigarettes from his pockets. "I can't work with you. This was a bad idea -- all of it."
  169. Giorgio shuts his eyes, trying to calm himself down quickly, bringing a hand to his head and rubbing it. He sees the projections staring, and just drops his eyes to the floor. "What's wrong with where we are now?" he hisses back to him, lifting his eyes to glare at him. "Oh, I'm glad you're finally realizing this-- /don't/ smoke," he growls, and turns to storm out of the bar, and whether Bernard follows him or not is up to him.
  171. Bernard makes a noise of utter distress and anger and follows Giorgio out of the bar, lighting his cigarette on the way. "What is your bloody /problem/?" He barks at him once they're outside, making a rather violent gesture with his hands. "One minute you're flirting with me and the next it's like you're contemplating what my head would look like on a stake. Pick a mood and stick to it!"
  173. Giorgio stops, clenching his hands into fists, before rounding on him, taking a glance at the cigarette in his hand and just giving him his most hateful look. "What do you /want/?" he snarls at him. "You wanted to see my subconcious," he gestures at the city around him, "Well here it is." He starts walking again, the wind blowing a little harder at their backs, the sky growing overcast. "I'm not a fucking architect, Darling, I'm a /forger/." He stops again. "You want to show me how it's done? Well show me /your/ fucking dreams."
  175. Bernard rolls his eyes at the sudden weather change, following him. "Don't have a tantrum," he growls, buttoning up his jacket. "I am performing an assessment!" For heaven's sake. Bernard sighs and flicks his unsmoked cigarette away, stopping with Giorgio to give him an utterly withering look. "I'm not obligated to show you anything. Come now, Mr. Romano. Behave."
  177. takes a deep breath, staring at him formidably, and then he straightens up, looking down his nose at him. He can't say anything, so he just glares at the man infront of him, until the wind dies down and the sun peeks back through the clouds. Giorgio is making a considerable effort to keep his dream-Naples as perfect as it is in real life. "I'm not going to ask again," he starts slowly. "What. Do. You. Want." He finally breaks eye-contact with him, turning his head to peer across the street. 
  179. Bernard makes another violent gesture of impatience and frustration, almost stamping his foot, barely resisting the urge to whip his gun out and shoot them both in the head. "I'm going to be working with you for the next few months," he hisses, mouth a thin line. "I want you to /behave/." Bernard stares back at him just as formidably, unwilling to be outdone at a glaring contest.
  181. Giorgio turns his head to look at him again, his eyes wide with rage. "I am behaving!" he gestures out back at him. "I was behaving, until you decided to be a smug little--" he fights with himself for the right words, before blurting, "Bitch!" He looks at him with complete distaste, before turning away from him and just rubbing at his eyes, willing himself to control his temper. "What was that all about? In the bar?"
  183. Bernard has almost managed to calm himself down until he hears himself called a 'bitch', and it takes him less than five seconds to pull out his glock and shoot himself in the head. When he wakes up back in reality, he's fuming, ripping the wires from his arm and giving Giorgio's chair a good kick before storming off elsewhere, most likely to have a good bitch to his superiors for putting him on the /worst job ever/. Stupid sexy childish violent Italians. Not the best sort for poor, repressed Bernard's first homo relationship. 
  185. Giorgio quickly turns back around when he hears the gunshot, looking on in horror as the man drops at his feet, and he quickly steps back. "Oh, Jesus--" and then he's jerking awake from the kick, grasping for something, eyes wide, and he pulls the wires from his arms, watching Bernard storm out of the room in shock. He quickly stumbles out after him, looking as if he's going to confront Bernard, and then suddenly he's feeling very nauseous, the image of Bernard's mutilated head still fresh in his memory, and he detours to the restroom and is sick.
  187. Bernard has, naturally, buggered off to his room to sulk. To be fair, he probably should have shot Giorgio before he shot himself, but he wasn't thinking; the man just makes him /so angry/. Bernard storms around the master bedroom looking for his laptop, can't find it, and gives up and looks for the briefing files he was given this morning. He can't find those, either, so he picks up Giorgio's case file instead, flicking through it angrily.
  189. Giorgio flushes the toilet and cleans up, leaning on the sink and shivering a little from the aftershocks of vomiting. He takes a deep breath, and shakily brushes his teeth twice before retreating to the kitchen to open a package of saltines, just stuffing them in his mouth until he feels better. "He's fucking /crazy/," he mutters to himself, and then just lays his head down on the table and pouts.
  191. Giorgio has kept himself locked up in his room for the past day and a half, only coming out for the essential reasons, doing his best to avoid Bernard the best he could. After their experience with the PASIV machine, he can't bring himself to look at the other man, the image of Bernard's blown-apart brain still burned into his mind. Whenever he would go downstairs for a bite to eat, and by chance run into Bernard, he would avoid eye contact at all costs. But even after a day, he can't keep this up, the house was too small to avoid him /all/ the time, and Giorgio was getting tired of his room. Maybe, if he could swallow his pride and suck up to Bernard, he could get on his good side and he'd get a chance to actually go outside.
  193. Bernard has more or less completely forgotten what happened the other day; he's a military man and used to seeing things like that in his work, and really, he can't understand why someone with considerable experience like Giorgio would be affected by that shit, so he chalks the other man's avoidance of him up to simple dislike. So Bernard keeps to himself, unpacking suitcases of clothing into hiswalk-in closet, only bothering to venture out of his room to order a curry. He contemplates asking Giorgio whether he wants anything, but, well -- it's not as if he wants to have a conversation with a grown man in a sulk, to be honest.
  195. Giorgio has organized his room, twice over, in his avoidance of approaching Bernard. He's put his clothes away, rearranged his room, moving his bed from one end of the room to the other, all to keep his mind and hands busy. When his room is completely arranged the way he wants it, and is spotless, he realizes he can't possibly do anything more to postpone the issue any longer. He takes a deep breath, wandering downstairs to the kitchen, where he spots Bernard on the phone. He opens his mouth, staring at him, and then circles around the kitchen to hide his face by looking in the refridgerator.
  197. Bernard orders himself a biryani, tacking on some egg fried rice for Giorgio. Do Italians eat Indian food? When he sees Giorgio enter the kitchen, though, he quickly wraps up the call and puts the phone down, folding his arms and leaning on the table, watching him closely. If he starts eating mozarella with his bloody fingers again he's going to go through the roof, but he doesn't want to say anything, just watching Giorgio closely.
  199. Giorgio peers around in the refridgerator, taking a deep breath and just closing the door without grabbing anything. He darts a quick glance at Bernard, and then away again. Jesus, why was he staring at him like that? He moves across the kitchen to brew some coffee, clearing his throat and turning his head to look at him. "Would you like some," he asks, politely, getting a mug from the cupboard. Then, without waiting for Bernard's answer, he asks, "Who was that, on the phone?" And then, without missing a beat. "I'm sorry." If you couldn't tell, Giorgio is clearly a bit inexperienced with apologies.
  201. Bernard raises a single eyebrow at him, abandoning the table for the counters, again. "Coffee would be appreciated," he says, curtly, inspecting his nails, bum firmly planted on the counter-top like a child, snatching at a takeaway menu from the pile of junk post next to him purely so he won't have to engage in conversation -- as if reading the prices of sweet and sour chicken and crab soup was  /far/ more interesting than anything Giorgio has to say. This turns out to be spectacularly untrue, however, and Bernard almost drops the tacky little menu at Giorgio's random fucking apology. "I -- what? For /what/?" he says, blinking.
  203. Giorgio knits his eyebrows together with a spectacular frown, as if it will pain him greatly to have to explain exactly /why/ he's sorry, much like a prideful little child. He takes a breath, folding his arms tight over his chest, and watches the coffee brew, wishing it would hurry the fuck up. He puffs up at Bernard, shooting him a look, "For calling you a bitch the other day," he says quickly, and then adds, "I'm sorry," again, for good measure. And then he looks at the coffee-maker again, glaring at it. "Do you forgive me," he states, rather than asks, looking stubborn.
  205. Bernard chucks the menu and runs his fingers through his hair, cheeks pink and mouth slightly ajar as if Giorgio had just gotten onto his knee and brandished a ring at him. He seems to rediscover his bearings though, and closes his mouth. "Yes. Certainly," he mumbles, dropping his gaze because this is awkward as fuck, suddenly, inexplicably wishing they could just go back to bickering and flirting with each other instead. "It's. /Fine./ No hard feelings."
  207. Giorgio nods quickly, chewing on his lip, and quickly pours Bernard a mug of coffee, holding it up to him. His eyes flick up to him, and he cracks a smile, though it is crooked and awkward, but he means it nonetheless. "Good," is all he says, and he clears his throat, pouring himself a mug and occupies his mouth with something more useful; blowing on the hot drink and sipping at it carefully. He's quiet for a few moments, struggling with his pride and his words. He turns his mug in his hands, looking down at his coffee. "We can try that thing again, if you like," he says, and he jerks his chin a little, looking Bernard in the eye to reaffirm that everything is Fine and he is a Grown Up and can Act Like One Too, "That evaluation thing."
  209. Bernard raises his eyebrows at him as he hands the coffee over but takes it nonetheless, setting it down beside him on the counter. "I'm not assessing you again," he says, and gives him a withering look. "The report's already gone through, regardless." Bernard's not exactly the poster boy of efficiency and hard work, but, well, he couldn't resist the enticing prospect of getting to moan about Giorgio and his faux-Italy for six pages. Not impressed.
  211. Giorgio makes a face, not sure if he's relieved he doesn't have to be assessed again, or insulted that Bernard doesn't want to do it again. He sucks it up, and shrugs his shoulders, moving to lean against the counter near Bernard. "Fine, no skin off my back," he mumbles, and tilts his head, squinting at his coffee, before leering up at Bernard suspiciously. "What did you say about me in your assessment?"
  213. Bernard` shifts over a little when Giorgio leans on his counter, giving him a funny, embarrassed look. "That's none of your business," he says. He's not giving Giorgio the satisfaction of knowing how interested he is in him, anyway, regardless of the fact that being interested in Giorgio is a necessary component of his job -- but, well, it's not Bernard's fault that the damned Italian turns him on so spectacularly that he's forced to write six pages of whining to try and convince himself just how horrible and childish the man is, is it? 
  215. Giorgio makes a noise and pouts at him, setting down his mug and leans closer, still leering at him. "What do you mean that's none of my business?" He lifts his chin haughtily, pressing his hands palms-down on the counter. "It's about /me/, isn't it?" He sniffs, and drums his fingers ont he table top. "Then why don't I get to know what awful things you're saying about me behind my back?" His 
  216. [01:36] <Giorgio>  eyebrows raise. "I promise I won't get offended."
  218. Bernard blushes and gives him a filthy look, not at all impressed at all this ungentlemanly provocation, folding his arms to demonstrate that no, he wasn't going to divulge all of his professional secrets after just a pitiful bout of whinging. "Just the regular set of adjectives reserved for dangerous, violent criminals," he drawls, looking over Giorgio's shoulder with a sly smirk. "Moody and easily insulted, you know. Entertains false notions regarding physical attractiveness and skill. Doesn't shave."
  220.  Giorgio stands up straight and just leers right at him, placing his hands on his hips and waiting for him to start talking, looking imperious. "Excuse me," he says in an offended tone, "I have never attempted to lay a hand on you, so it is a slight to my character to call me dangerous and violent." He just sticks his nose up, like Bernard would, and folds his arms over his chest. When Bernard goes into detail of his person, his eyebrows shoot up and he just stares at him. "What is that supposed to mean, that second-to-last one?" he subconciously rubs at his chin, wondering if he should go and shave. "And what's wrong with my facial hair, I am very well-groomed!"
  222. Bernard gives him a dark, filthy sort of look, the kind of expression one would assume in the bedroom, and starts to smooth down the material of his trousers. "I'm just going by your outrageous and thoroughly inappropriate attempt to flirt with me when I debriefed you back in London," he says, flushing a little at the memory, though to be honest he's not quite sure whether Giorgio /was/ actually flirting with him or else he imagined it because he's frustrated and in the closet and Giorgio is the sexy antithesis of that, but whatever. "It makes you look like a call boy."
  224. Giorgio raises an eyebrow at his look, and makes a noise like a purr, sidling right up next to him, leaning on the counter again. "Oh, you caught on to me flirting with you, then, did you?" He ventures to slide his hand just above his knee, leering at him. "You know, you seem to enjoy focusing on the fact that I am a homosexual," he says, idly smoothing down his trousers, petting his knee. "Are you interested, Darling?" His lips curl into a wicked smirk, and he looks up at him enticingly. "Are you into men that apparently look like call boys?" 
  226. Bernard has the decency to blush at that. "Wouldn't you like that," he murmurs, but he's far too flustered for there to be much bite in it. He gives the hand on his knee a rather violent smack, ignoring the look he gets for it, and leans back against the wall.
  228. Giorgio jerks his hand away from his knee when Bernard smacks at it, and he makes a noise, politely backing up. He takes his mug of coffee and sips from it before pouring it down the sink. "I can't say I /haven't/ been eyeing you."
  230. Bernard brushes his trousers down thoroughly, leering at Giorgio, because he can't let this degenerate old snake get the best of him. "Well, you better get used to it," he sniffs, a little disdainfully, watching his coffee go down the sink with a small noise of offence. Something comes to mind, and he smirks suddenly, eyeing the Italian. "Were you trying to impress me with that dream of yours, then?"
  232. Giorgio runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he washes out the mug and sets it in the sink, taking his time drying his hands before he looks up at Bernard, perched on the counter, smirking back at him and rolling his shoulder in a half-shrug. "I thought you might like it," he says passively, raising his eyebrows at him.
  234. Bernard hops down from the counter with a huff. "It was...nice," he mumbles, then gives him an utterly dirty look to offset the compliment, strutting off past him. When he reaches the door, he turns to leer at him. "I'm going to do some work," Bernard says, tapping his nails on the doorframe. "Don't bother me."
  236. Giorgio tosses the towel on the counter, watching him pass him by, and he tongues his cheek, grinning at him. "Uh-huh," he replies absent-mindedly, staring at him. "What if I need to bother you?"
  238. Bernard arranges his features into a thoroughly disapproving expression, digging his nails into the soft wood of the doorframe. "You can't," he sniffs, then turns on his tail to go and set up the PASIV in the spare room. Bernard's feeling flustered and antsy; he needs to get this out of his system so he can /work/.
  240. Giorgio grins a little wider at his disapproving expression, looking tickled pink at just how easy it was to dig at him. He looks about the kitchen when he leaves the room, chewing at his lip, and then he just takes after Bernard, quietly following him. What did he have to work on that was so secret, anyway?
  242. Bernard flops himself down on one of the armchair's he'd had set up, punching in the time on the PASIV. He stops, suddenly, leaning out of his chair to check the hallway is clear -- and then the IV is in, and Bernard wakes up in a rather less splendid version of Giorgio's Italy, though rather than finding himself lounging in a seaside bar with a beer, he's instead being laid across a villa bed by a particularly sultry-looking projection of a certain someone.
  244. Giorgio pauses a moment outside the room, then pokes his head in as quietly as he can, raising his eyebrows at Bernard peacefully sleeping in the armchair, IV in arm. He narrows his eyes a bit and quietly steps into the room, hovering over him a moment. "So this is what constitutes as working, having a little nap? Slackerrrr," he murmurs, and his eyes slide over to the PASIV machine. Maybe he could sneak in, disguised as a projection of someone else.
  246. Bernard should probably be a little more wary of Giorgio sneaking in on him while he's out cold in an armchair, but it's /Bernard/, who probably wants to be caught. Still, the thought is shoved right out of his head in much the same way he's being shoved against his perfectly formed dream-bed, his linen suit all but torn off of him. "Careful," he hisses out breathlessly, but the projection just ignores him and yanks him by the neck onto the floor.
  248. Giorgio settles down next to Bernard's chair, leering up at him for a moment, then leans back, pressing the IV into his skin, sighing as he lets sleep take him. And then he's standing outside a villa, in a Naples that isn't quite his Naples. He laughs a little to himself, and looks around, surveying the area before wandering into the small house, glancing around inside. No sign of Bernard, yet, so he can stand to go a little longer without forging. It keeps the projections off his back.
  250. Bernard is already half bent over the bed giving projection-Giorgio a rather messy blowjob, tanned hands wound tight in his hair. He hadn't really thought this through, to be fair -- but he's wound up and flustered and far too aroused for his own good, and the shame he'd otherwise feel in doing this is far outweighed (in Bernard's mind) by sheer smugness in managing to figure out such a brilliant method in playing out his fantasies. The whore.
  252. Giorgio wanders through the home, looking about, and then he hears a faint moan which makes his head turn. "Hello," he says, more to himself, and walks in the direction of the noises, pushing open a door, only to find himself staring at...himself, receiving what seems to be a spectacular blowjob from Bernard. His jaw falls open, and he just stares, eyes wide. Well, That's not what he was expecting.
  254. Bernard is far too preoccupied with getting his mouth thoroughly fucked by an enthusiastic projection to notice someone coming in, but the projection does, at least, eyes flicking up to the intruder. Bernard follows his gaze and sees Giorgio, staring, and for a brief moment there's a flash of panic across his features, but it eases off into a sigh. Bernard pushes the projection's hips back and crawls onto the bed, quickly resuming the blowjob, shifting up onto his knees because, well, how else is he going to deal with another projection?
  256. Giorgio blinks at Bernard when he looks back at him, ready to start defending himself, but he doesn't even know what words to use-- and then Bernard is crawling up onto the bed with his ass in the air-- and /that's/ when Giorgio realizes, with a painful throb, that he's hard. So Bernard thinks he's another projection. He might be able to roll with this, if he can get out of the dream before Bernard wakes up. But he can't turn this opportunity away, removing his trousers and jumping out of them, quickly getting onto the bed behind Bernard, reaching out to grab a handful of that nice, pert ass.
  258. Bernard hums around the projection's dick, enjoying the sensation, and just blatantly rubs his ass back against Giorgio, and he can't help but feel quite pleased with himself for having such a thoroughly /naughty/ subconscious. If only the blasted Italian knew, thinks Bernard, a little spitefully. Knew that he was doing this in dreams when he maintains such cold disapproval in the flesh.
  260. Giorgio slowly rubs his thumb into his ass, spreading it to get a good look. It's like a dream come true, except they're Bernard's dreams, not his. He leans over him, kissing his shoulder and growling softly at him. "Well, do you have something to lube you up, or do you want me to just fuck you raw, Darling?"
  262. Bernard lets out a soft, muffled moan, working the projection's dick like he does this for a living. When Giorgio speaks he lifts his head off to glare at him, his pupils blown, lips smeared wet with precome, and gestures violently to the bottle of lube on the bedside cabinet. The other Giorgio, the dream incarnation, gives his doppelganger a filthy smirk before yanking Bernard back onto his dick by his hair.
  264. Giorgio stares at Bernard sucking at the projection of himself's cock like his life depended on it. He inhales deeply and groans at the sight, his eyes darting up to the image of himself, pausing a little awkwardly at the sight of him smirking at himself like that before crossing over to quickly get the lube, squirting it onto his hands and wasting no time before rubbing it in and around Bernard's asshole, slicking up his hard cock with the rest of it.
  266. Bernard has soon figured out how to take the projection in fully without gagging; he's a quick learner, Bernard. Though having a cock halfway down your throat is a considerable distraction he can't help but flinch at the fingers on his asshole, and he makes a funny yelping noise around the projection's dick, knuckles white against the sheets. Maybe he got a little more than he'd bargained for, he  thinks, whining softly in his throat.
  268. Giorgio thrusts his fingers into him, his eyes on Bernard's mouth around his... his /projection/'s cock, moaning. He spreads and scissors his fingers, finding that sweet spot to stroke against, but he quickly pulls them out of him, replacing them with his dick, nudging at his entrance with the head, panting softly. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, Darling, you won't know what to do with yourself."
  270. Bernard manages to look a little nervous about the inevitability of getting a cock shoved up his behind, and he pulls away to verbalise this, but the projection he's been sucking off for the better part of twenty minutes chooses that moment to come, suddenly, across Bernard's face. He has about three seconds to look shocked before he's yanked back in by the hair, semen dripping from his cheek, and wow - who'd have thought Bernard's virgin subconscious could be so dirty? - because the projection just forces him right back on his cock.
  272. Giorgio makes a noise, staring hungrily at Bernard, and just sucks in a breath, growling in the back of his throat as he just shoves into him, rocking into his ass steadily, pulling him back by his hips so he can bury his cock into him. He just groans with how /good/ it feels to be in his tight virgin ass. "Haa--ah... tell me how much you love it."
  274. Bernard yelps and whimpers in surprise when Giorgio just shoves into him, eyes wide and blown, so wrapped up in what's going on up front that he'd temporarily forgotten the projection (well, in his mind) behind him. He chokes out a sob, mouth still full of cock, spreading his legs wide.
  276. Giorgio groans again, rolling his hips, running his fingers back through his hair, just pounding into him quickly without relent. He shudders a little and reaches for Bernard's hair, tugging him off of the projection's cock so he can hear him moan and sob, thrusting. "God, you love being fucked by a horrible criminal, don't you?"
  278. Bernard feels it's perfectly acceptable to be as loud as he can possibly be, almost yelling against the projection's dick as he's ruthlessly pounded, clenching and squeezing around him, which, while probably v. nice for Giorgio, is going to make Bernard sore as hell when he's finished with him. "I l-l-love it," he stutters out, gripping the projection's thighs for leverage. "I''m a little whore."
  280. Giorgio chuckles, licking his lips and shivering as Bernard squeezes around his dick. "Oh, that feels so nice," his whispers, letting go of Bernard's hair to grab at his hips again, tugging them back with each lurch of his hips. "You're so tight, God, it's just like I imagined." He rocks into him, reaching around his waist to grab Bernard's dick, slowly pumping it.
  282. Bernard barely has time to yelp after Giorgio lets him go as th projection is quick in grabbing a handful of hair again, pulling him forward. He'd be glad he won't actually have to deal with the consequences of being ruthlessly spitroasted when he wakes up, but Bernard can't think of anything but Giorgio pounding into him, shoving against his prostate in devastating precision. Bernard yells and moans and tries very hard not to come all over everything when his own neglected dick is suddenly grabbed, so he takes his mind off it by giving the projection another spectacular blowjob.
  284. Giorgio groans loud, just pounding away into him. "Christ, you want it /bad/, don't you," he murmurs, rocking into him, and then slows suddenly, just grinding deep, slowly stroking his cock. "Ohh, you're fucking beautiful, look at how well you take all of me in..."
  286. Bernard shuts his eyes tight and pulls away from the projection to let out one last high, shuddering moan, squeezing around Giorgio and coming all over the bedsheets. He buries his face in the dream-Giorgio's thigh with a tiny sob, hips jerking and shuddering as he rides out his orgasm, and despite all the sobbing and yelling Bernard feels smug as hell.
  288. Giorgio takes a deep breath, pumping his cock as he orgasms, shutting his eyes and thrusting into him slowly, hips smacking against his ass, and within a few minutes he's coming inside him, growling savagely. "Ohh, fuck yeah, Darling, you're fucking /gorgeous/."
  290. Bernard moans and just lets his head fall into the faux Giorgio's lap, trying not to squirm in discomfort as his orgasm starts to wear off and his body decides it doesn't really want a dick up its ass. He shifts his head just-so, leering up at Giorgio. "Where did you come from, anyway?"
  292. Giorgio pants softly, slowly pulling out of his ass, pressing at the small of his back as he does, rubbing small circles into his back with his thumb. "I can't tell you that, you'll come capture me." He makes a purring noise at the sight of Bernard looking so fucked out, and leans down to tug on his trousers. "I'll have to take my leave, now."
  294. Bernard is too fucked out to care much, and just rolls his shoulders and crawls on top of the projection, which immediately wraps his arms around him. He'll just sleep, he thinks, until the timer on the PASIV goes off.
  296. Giorgio glances up at the projection of himself again, holding Bernard, and quickly leaves the room, running out of the house and making his way towards nowhere in particular, pulling out a gun from his jacket and turning off the safety, pointing it to his head. He promptly shoots himself there on the sidewalk, which inevitably jerks him awake, gasping. He pulls the IV out of his wrist and glances at Bernard quickly before high-tailing it out of the room to his own, and in seconds he has his jeans off so he can masturbate furiously to what had just happened.
  298. Bernard sleeps next to his suddenly very cuddly projection of Giorgio as the dream starts to collapse around him, music flooding his ears until he jolts awake, suddenly, thirty minutes or so after Giorgio had buggered off. He lets out a sigh and removes the IV, rubbing his eyes, shuffling off into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Where Giorgio is doesn't even cross Bernard's mind; he's probably upstairs sulking or looking at porn or something, he thinks.
  300. Giorgio comes within minutes all over his hand, staggering against his bed and leaning against it, panting. "Oh, god," he swears, panting, pushing his forehead against the bedspread. "Jesus Christ." He reaches for kleenexes, cleaning up and tossing them in the trash. "That was fucking-- ridiculous." He sits there, just trying to collect himself after an amazing orgasm, and eventually gets up, moving downstairs to check for Bernard.
  302. Bernard is sitting back on the counter with a mug of tea in one hand and a book in the other, and he surveys Giorgio dispassionately when he comes to poke his nose in his business. He sniffs, glares, and then goes back to his book; quite well acted for someone who'd just been dreaming about having filthy sex with the man he's snubbing.
  304. Giorgio raises his eyebrows at Bernard when he receives such a glare; what an actor he was! It's all he can do to not get hard again just by looking at him, so he turns his head away, trying to occupy himself with looking through the newspapers. "What are you reading then? Did you finish your work, or whatever that was?"
  306. Bernard gives Giorgio a thoroughly patronising look and folds the corner of the page he's on as an impromptu bookmark, shutting the book, which is just a boring old cookbook. He surveys Giorgio with a blush, feeling v. pleased with himself indeed for managing to be so /naughty/ without anyone ever knowing. "Oh, I still need to tweak some things," mumbles Bernard, waving his hand dismissively.
  308. Giorgio coughs a little, and looks over at him from the corner of his eye, and he smiles a little nodding. "Oh, uh-huh." He looks back at the newspaper. "So, um," he scratches the back of his neck, and just turns around to face him. "When am I going to do something?"
  310. Bernard flushes and goes back to his cookbook, purely because he doesn't trust himself to not start acting like a flustered idiot, and the boring Beeton recipes are a welcome distraction. "When I need you," he says, chewing his bottom lip unattractively. "And when you start shaping up and treating this as a serious job and not a personal reticule for your perversions." Ahh, such hypocrisy.
  312. Giorgio leers at him for a moment, then takes a breath, nodding a little and folding his arms over his chest. "Great," he murmurs, staring off. He was getting mixed signals all over the place. Bernard obviously had a thing for him, enough to dream about fucking him, but jesus, he was as cold as ice in reality. "And what if I /don't/ want to stop treating this as a personal reticule for my perversions?" He squints a little at him, walking over to lean on the table, palms down.
  314. Bernard flinches and leans back, holding his book to his chest, and turns a nice shade of crimson. "Oh, um, well," he starts, flustered, stumbling over his words, "that's not -- that won't be allowed, thank you, no perversions here."
  316. Giorgio chuckles at him, tilting his head and smirking and purring at him. "Please, Darling, I know you love it when I flirt with you."
  318. Bernard sticks his nose up at him and gives him a shove, looking flustered as hell. "I do not! It's innapropriate," he sniffs, and gives Giorgo a dirty look, wondering if he should just give in to this degenerate's advances, but, well. He /is/ a professional with a job to do, and he doubts Giorgo will get any less aggravating even after a bit of a shag. "Go away."
  320. Giorgio smirks when Bernard shoves him back, and he shakes his head, wandering around to the other side of the table. "I don't give up so easily, you know," he murmurs, and raises his eyebrows, sauntering out of the kitchen. "You'll fall for me yet, Darling!"
  322. Giorgio is up at the crack of dawn, hopping down the stairs, trainers in hand. He's got white shirt and red running shorts on that were on the verge of being impossibly short for a man, riding high on his thighs. He's even got one of those stupid arm bands to strap his ipod into. He sets his sneakers down on the floor and walks into the kitchen to fill a waterbottle.
  324. Bernard is also awake. This is highly uncharacteristic of Bernard, because while he is v. competent and professional, he's also thoroughly lazy, and would happily spend the day stretched out on the bed in a patch of sun, like an overfed cat. He's awake because every time he tries to go to sleep, he thinks of Giorgio, which is very distracting and stressful, so around five or six or so in the morning he just gives up and goes to doss about downstairs, where he is now, sitting atop the counters as usual and glaring horrendously at the man who just walked in. "What in god's name are you /wearing/?"
  326. Giorgio raises his eyebrows at Bernard sitting on the counter, and he sees him trying to talk to him. He grins, pulling his earbuds out of his ear, which may or may not be blasting "All the Single Ladies," and he grins at Bernard. "Hey, did you know there's this great new invention, loads of people love them; they're called /chairs/." He smiles pleasantly at the other man and just scews the top on his bottle and sets it on the counter, bending down pull on his trainers and tie them.
  328. Bernard turns bright red at Giorgio's comment and huffs, folding his arms, trying very hard not to look at his ass. "I beg your pardon?" he bristles, but there's no real venom in it, tired as he is. Stupid sexy Italian. "Yes, well. At least /I/ can manage to dress myself in the mornings. You seem to have misplaced all your clothes."
  330. Giorgio chuckles and ties his other shoe before standing up, brushing his shorts down, glancing up at Bernard perched on the counter, folding his arms. "Sorry, love, but I can't see myself trying to run in what you're wearing." He grabs his waterbottle and raises his eyebrows at him. "...Do you run, Darling?"
  332. Bernard groans and rubs the bridge of his nose, suddenly looking very vulnerable, because he's tired and has a nasty headache. He droops a bit, staring at Giorgio's shorts glumly and feeling sorry for himself. "No. I have a gym membership. I'm civilized, you see."
  334. Giorgio raises an eyebrow at him, looking him over for a moment before making a noise. "Well, lucky you, then," he mumbles, turning his back on Bernard and sticking his earbuds back in his ears. He sniffs and heads to the front door, turning his head and calling. "I'll be back in like an hour!" And then he's out the door, slamming it behind him, jogging off down the driveway and then down the road.
  336. Bernard gives the back of Giorgio an utterly filthy look, annoyed that his blatant plea for attention had been so rudely rejected. Stupid handsome Italian bastard, he thinks, sliding rather gracelessly from the counter and waddling up the stairs so he can go back to bed. Except Bernard is too lazy to bother walking the stretch of hallway to the master bedroom so he just ends up in on one of the beds in the spare rooms; Giorgio's, actually, but Bernard neither notices nor would really care if he did.
  338. Giorgio returns in about an hour, just like he said he would, hustling through the front door, huffing and puffing and sweating. He pulls his earbuds out of his ear and kicks off his shoes, immediately looking for Bernard in the kitchen, pouting a bit when he's not perching atop the counters as usual. "I'm home!" he calls out, though he doesn't really expect any sort of response, just hopping up the stairs two at time to get to his bedroom, pulling his shirt off over his head and wiping his brow with it.
  340. Bernard is curled up on Giorgio's bed in his jumper and jammies, Giorgio's shout having only just woken him up. He's not too happy about this, and mumbles a "shove off" into the pillow before grabbing it and holding it over his head, and by the time Giorgio walks in he's fast aleep again.
  342. Giorgio opens his door and freezes at the sight of Bernard curled up on his bed, head stuffed under a pillow. He blinks, dropping his shirt into a hamper, just staring, not sure whether he should leave him be or wake him up. He chews the inside of his cheek thoughtfully before moving over to the edge of the bed and leaning on it, lifting the pillow off Bernard's head. "Darling, I hate to disturb you, but this isn't your bed."
  344. Bernard mumbles and pouts as he's woken up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "Go away," he slurs tiredly, wincing at the sudden light and trying to bat the other man away. Once Bernard's finally woken himself up, though, he's up and off the bed in all about five seconds, looking flustered and, uncharacteristically, apologetic. "I'm -- I'm quite sorry," he says, grimacing a bit as if the act of apologising to Giorgio was painful to him. "I thought this room was free."
  346. Giorgio tries not to coo a little at the look on Bernard's face when he's woken him up, wishing he let him just sleep. He jerks away when Bernard jumps out of bed, and he smirks a little, tossing his things down at the foot of the bed. "Oh, now I feel terrible," he grins to himself, and moves to get a towel from his closet. "You're perfectly welcome to sleep all you want in my bed, with or without me in it." He shoots Bernard a look and raises his eyebrows, then ducks out of the room. "I'm going to have a shower."
  348. ---
  350. Giorgio sighs and drifts off to sleep, and then he's walking through Rome, and he hears the faint ringing in the distance of the duomos. Giorgio has never had a problem recreating places he's known in dreams. He always has a totem on hand if he gets worried, but he doesn't. But whenever he's in Rome he gets a little sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, like being homesick but worse, because going home doesn't make it feel better. He should have picked Milano. It doesn't matter, he meets up with his sister, and he confesses how much he misses her and she him, and out of the corner of his eye he swears he sees Bernard, but when he turns his head there's no one there, so he turns his head back to his sister and fuck his life, Bernard is sitting across from him in place of where Ferdinanda should be.
  352. Bernard waddles downstairs to find Giorgio hooked up to the IV, and it makes him laugh, because he thinks he's doing exactly the same thing he himself did the other day. He doesn;t hook himself up to the machine, but instead checks the timer -- half an hour -- and takes the time to poke Giorgio's lifeless form. Then Bernard smirks, evilly, and gives the front of his trousers a firm squeeze, because he knows the sudden stimulation will fuck with his dream.
  354. Giorgio just shoves his face in his hands, trying to ignore the expectant Bernard across from him. The projection asks him what he's doing, faffing about, barks at him to get back to work, and Giorgio just growls out at him in warning. Suddenly, there's a lurch-- Giorgio doesn't know how to explain it --and Bernard snatches his wrist, hand tightly wound around it. '... to fuck?' and Giorgio's head snaps up, and the projection is staring at him piercingly. "What?" And Bernard is practically crawling over the table toward him. "I said, when. Are we going to /fuck/."
  356. Bernard giggles in absolute glee, because he's a little bitch and gets enjoyment out of sabotaging the dreams of pushy Italian deviants. He's feeling a lot less uptight after his session upstairs, and he gives Giorgio's crotch another squeeze, tracing his fingers over the front of his jeans. Bernard is at his base level a dirty little minx, apparently.
  358. Giorgio stares at Bernard as the table stretches out into a huge, plush bed, with Giorgio still sitting in his chair infront of it, the projection crawling forward and leering at him. "What are you waiting for?" faux-Bernard asks, kneeling up and undressing, and Giorgio quickly stands as the Rome he built gives way and becomes an enclosed room. So much for a bittersweet dream meet-up with his  sister. What the fuck was going on? Honestly, Giorgio thought he had better control over his dreams than this. Was he getting rusty from not being on a job in a while? He tears his eyes off of Bernard, who was now fingering himself, to check his totem, flicking open the knife and then back closed again, shoving it in his pocket and raising his eyes back to the smouldering projection before him. Welp.
  360. Bernard straddles Giorgio, slotting their hips together neatly. "You stupid, self-obsessed, Italian pervert," he says to him, knitting his eyebrows together. Delighted by the lack of response, Bernard just starts prodding Giorgio about, sliding his hands up his shirt to feel the hard ripple of muscles there, palming his abs before just blatantly tweaking a nipple. But that's all Bernard can manage, and he feels a brief flash of shame and embarrassment, and has to quickly squirm out of Giorgio's lap -- their hips sliding together as he fumbles about -- and without a second glance he's out of the room, chest heaving as if he'd just performed the deciding act of a particularly tricky extraction.
  362. Giorgio feels that /lurch/ again, and Bernard is snatching him by the collar of his shirt, tugging him onto the bed and kissing him. He furrows his brow and just rolls with it, returning the kiss full force and shoving the other man down, and in seconds he's out of his clothes and fucking the projection rigorously into the bed while he wails and screams, yes, yes, oh fuck, more, more, /more/. It's not as good as the sex he had with the real Bernard. Or, well, the dream-sex he had with the real Bernard. Wow, what a paradox. But in minutes, they're both coming together, and all of that slips from his thoughts as they arch together and Bernards fingers are in his hair and tugging him down for another hot kiss.
  364. Bernard goes and pokes about in the kitchen for some food, satisfied that his five minutes of molestation will disrupt Giorgio's dreamworld for at least an hour or so. Bernard has never been in a dream with someone feeling up his physical self before, but he can imagine what it must be like. He makes himself a sandwich, tittering sadistically to himself.
  366. Giorgio groans when the projection pushes him over onto his back and straddles him, pulling at his chest hair and growling at him. Giorgio moans and stares up at the projection of Bernard, wondering vaguely how his dream came to be like this. He didn't go under expecting to fuck anyone, least not his projection of Bernard. Bernard shoves his hips against Giorgio's, making him groan again, and he finds that he's hard again. The projection grinds on him, telling him to hurry up, before just taking charge and lowering himself on Giorgio's cock.
  368. Bernard goes and sits in the PASIV room with Giorgio, eating his sandwich and watching him with vague interest, using him as a footstall. "Why are you so bloody insufferable," he muses out loud, humming to himself around a bite of his sandwich (assembled from various bits of Giorgio's stockpile of Italian food). Bernard nudges him experimentally with his foot, wondering if he really is having a pervy dream, and who he's projecting into it.
  370. Giorgio watches the projection bounce on his cock, whining and moaning, and he just arches up so that his hips meet Bernard's ass everytime. "Why are you so bloody insufferable," the projection groans at him, grinding down so hard on Giorgio's cock that he yelps at the feeling. "Wh-why are you such a moody bitch?" he growls back, and he /whines/ a little at how good it feels when the projection just glares and clenches around his dick. They continue like this for several minutes, the projection milking all kinds of noises out of Giorgio by grinding on him and squeezing around his cock, making him come first, and then he's kneeling up, pumping his cock until he comes on Giorgio's chest.
  372. Bernard pouts a little, watching the Italian. If he had any idea what was going on in Giorgio's dream he'd have an utter fit, but fortunately for Giorgio he only assumes he's shagging some stupid young thing from one of his dirty pornographic videos. Otherwise he'd have given him a bally good kick. Which is tempting anyway, but Bernard is eating his sandwich, and can't be bothered to get up. He shifts his foot down to his crotch, pushing at it with the heel, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smirk.
  374. Giorgio pants, his eyes fluttering shut when Bernard rolls off him, just laying there, still groaning from the aftershocks of his orgasm. He feels the projection's hands in his chest hair again, this time rubbing his come into his skin. Giorgio's brow furrows and he's about to tell the projection to give it a rest, when there's another /movement/ in his dreams, and Bernard is hovering over him, hissing for him to get in the shower. As he gets up, he idly wonders if Bernard is this sex-starved and slutty in real life, and then he thinks if he is and they ever were to get together, Bernard would kill him. He gets into the shower as ordered, and within seconds the projection is on him, getting down to his knees and stroking his cock til it finally agrees to grow hard again. Giorgio has no idea how he can even deal with this, and thanks Christ it's just a dream.
  376. Bernard just idly pushes the heel of his foot into Giorgio's crotch, leaning back and finishing the rest of his sandwich, licking his fingers clean. He dumps the plate on the table next to the PASIV and gets up, stretching lazily, shuffling over to check the timer -- five more minutes -- and decides to give Giorgio's dream a brilliant send off, and he gets down on his knees between his legs. Despite his slutty behaviour Bernard still has enough remnants of shame and prudishness in him to blush furiously and faff about and look suitably mortified with himself as he unzips Giorgio's jeans. He shuts his eyes, pulls out his cock, gives the tip of it a brief lick, then shoves it back and zips him up again and only when he's back in his seat again does he open his eyes. Despite himself, Bernard can't help but look a little smug.
  378. Giorgio leans back into the wall of the shower, breathing in as Bernard wraps his lips around his cock, sucking and licking at the tip. Giorgio immediately shoves his fingers into the projection's hair, pulling at it and groaning. Meanwhile, the projection just goes to town on his cock, sucking and deepthroating him to the best of his ability. Giorgio's legs wobble, and he whines as he feels his dick bump the back of Bernard's throat, swearing. "You're too fucking good at this," he whispers, and the projection's eyes flit up to him, fierce and smouldering, and that's when he's sent over the edge for a third time, coming into the projections mouth as the dream falls apart around him. When the time runs out on the PASIV, Giorgio's eyes flit open and he inhales with a sharp little gasp, just staring up at the ceiling.
  380. Bernard leans back with an amused look on his face, watching Giorgio wake up. He can tell by the way his chest moves and by the flush spread across his cheeks that he's just had the dream-shag of his life; either that or he's been outrunning a bloody freight train or something. "Oh, I see you've decided to wake up," drawls Bernard, checking the time on his watch. "That's another mark on your behavioural record for -- mm, let's think -- misuse of military property?" What a little bitch. 
  382. Giorgio blinks slowly, and then turns his head to Bernard when he starts to speak, and then he feels the painful throb of his cock straining against his trousers, so he quickly crosses his legs, pulling the IV out of his wrist and letting it drop. He narrows his eyes, turning his head away from Bernard and rubbing his mouth, staring at the wall. Christ, he can't even escape Bernard in his dreams. "You don't think I haven't seen /you/ using the PASIV machine at your leisure?"
  384. Bernard leers at him gleefully. He hasn't figured it out then, yet. "Bugger off. I use that for work," he sniffs, though he feels rather alarmed, because he knows that sex dream plus tightly tailored trousers equals obvious erection. Bernard has the decency to blush, hoping Giorgio hadn't walked in on him the other day, but he stares at him unfailingly.
  386. Giorgio smirks to himself, dropping his hands in his lap and turning to leer right back at Bernard, knowingly, just staring right back at him for a couple moments before shifting and playing with his shirt. He pauses for a moment and furrows his brow, just noticing that his shirt was untucked. When did that happen? He looks off thoughtfully, smoothing it down and shifting about uncomfortably.
  388. Bernard crosses his own legs, leaning back and looking sulky. After a minute he gets up. "I'm going to make scones," he says flatly, as if it was perfectly normal for MI5 agents to bake, and then he leaves the room for the kitchen. Sitting in an enclosed space with a suspicious, horny Giorgio doesn't sound like Bernard's idea of a good time.
  390. Giorgio watches him get up and leave, and he licks his lips, looking down at his shirt again before getting up, walking to the kitchen and leaning in the doorway, leering quite blatantly at Bernard from across the room. He clears his throat, not taking his eyes off him. "Oh, Bernard... come here for a second."
  392. Bernard looks up from his scone mix, holding an egg in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. "No," he says defensively, then turns to crack the egg into the bowl, flushing. Bernard doesn't like the look of this. "What do you want me for?" he adds, scrabbling in the cupboards for something, purely so he can ignore Giorgio.
  394. Giorgio pouts a bit when Bernard won't come over to him, but it's not like he expected him to anyway. He saunters into the kitchen, moving up behind Bernard when he reaches into the cupboards, and brings his hands to his waist. "I have, um," he murmurs softly, delicately, "One tiny question. Really simple. Yes or no answer."
  396. Bernard drops the salt shaker he'd just fished from the back of the cuboard, back tensing up. "How do you know I'm not going to lie?" he says quietly, going entirely rigid in Giorgio's hold, swallowing.
  398. Giorgio smirks, shifting closer, just barely touching his chest to Bernard's back as he dips his head by his ear. "Is that your first reaction to a question, is to tell a lie?" He makes a deep noise in the back of his throat, his fingers lightly pressing into his waist. "Then maybe I'll just have to suspect you're lying."
  400. Bernard doesn't really know what to do with himself what with Giorgio all but pinning him to the counter. "I work for the MI5," he says, a little shakily, but confident enough. "You shouldn't be trusting me in the first place, Mr. Romano." Bernard picks up the salt shaker he dropped, righting it. "Ask your blasted question."
  402. Giorgio pins Bernard's hips against the counter, looking him over before leaning very close to his ear. "Did you fuck with my dream, Darling?" He lifts his head away just a little, staring at him closely, piercingly.
  404. Bernard squeaks entirely accidentally and braces himself on the edge of the counter, cursing his traitorous body as he feels his cock stir. He thinks of what Giorgio just said, about answering the opposite of what he would mean, and his mind has suddenly become rather muddy so he throws all caution to the wind and answers -- "Yes." Bernard takes a breath, sucking it in through his teeth. "Yeah I did. Problem?" 
  406. Giorgio leers at him, and pushes against his body, closing the space between Bernard's back and Giorgio's front, and he growls into his ear. "What did you do?" he hisses, his hands lowering to knead at his hips, pulling them back against his crotch. "/Why/?"
  408. Bernard whimpers quietly, feeling a lot less daring and slutty now that he's dealing with an animated, talking, moving Giorgio; he was much more manageable when he was asleep in a chair. "What's it to you?" he half-yelps, feeling his thighs and ass clench; nerves. "Why, what were you dreaming about? Did I make you do something /terrible/?" A little smugness, there.
  410. Giorgio presses against him and chuckles a little, narrowing his eyes, squeezing his hips and letting his erection rub against Bernard's ass through his trousers. "I was /trying/ to relax, and then-- /something/ happened, and you showed up..." He groans, narrowing his eyes, remembering the lurch he would feel in his dreams. "That feeling, that was /you/, wasn't it?" He presses against his ear again, growling. "What did you do?" 
  412. Bernard bites back another squeak, bravely ignoring the erection currently being ground against his behind, and sucks in another breath. "I touched the front of your trousers," he says, finally, a little annoyed that he's being interrogated by his own bloody captive. Well, sort of. "I did warn you not to use the machine unauthorised. It's your own fault."
  414. Giorgio narrows his eyes, and leans in close to him, grazing his lips along the side of his neck, his brow furrowing a little before he pulls his head away, and he lets out a single laugh. "You filthy little minx!" He growls again and squeezes him against his body. "Molesting me in my sleep? Even I'm not that depraved." His fingers wander, up to his chest. "That's not all you did. I woke up with my shirt untucked."
  416. Bernard glares at the slur, pressing his ass back suddenly against Giorgio's crotch, because he knows the jolt of stimulation will disrupt him a bit. "I touched you underneath it, too," he says, all of a sudden full of his characteristic haughtiness, though his tone is low and provocative. "I wasn't very impressed, either. You may act like a whore but you don't really have much to back it up with."Oohh, what a bitch. 
  418. Giorgio jerks a little, taking a slight breath when Bernard presses his ass back against his cock, making it throb. He groans a little, leering at Bernard and rubbing a thumb over his nipple when he starts to speak. He narrows his eyes and growls a little, moving his hand back to his hips, squeezing them. "Jesus, you really had your way with me, didn't you?"
  420. Bernard lurches forward against the counter when Giorgio rubs his nipple, moaning blatantly and all but melting, feeling arousal fog his mind. "Don't -- don't do that," he groans once he's gotten his breath back, and he finally turns around, giving Giorgio a good shove so he can brush himself down. His face is bright red and the line of his cock is obvious through his trousers, but if he knows, he doesn't show it. "And I bet you're going to wank yourself silly to that thought for the rest of our arrangement, aren't you? Be grateful I've provided you with masturbatory material for at least a week. Good day, Mr. Romano." And with that, he makes his escape and darts from the kitchen.
  422. Giorgio grunts a bit when Bernard shoves him back, and he raises his eyebrows, eyes immediately dropping to Bernard's cock straining against his trousers. He grins to himself, eyes flicking back up to Bernard, and he watches him dart out of the kitchen. He takes a breath, and walks out shortly after, to his bedroom, so he can finally relieve himself of his terrible boner problem. "Fuck, my life," he breathes when he has his trousers and underwear off, collapsing onto his bed so he can do just as Bernard said and wank himself silly.
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