Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos; they own it all.
A/N: For the "meet ugly" writing prompt going around Tumblr. That I was supposed to refrain from filling.
The car screeched to a halt, but it still hadn't stopped in time, and there was a resounding bang as the man slammed into her windscreen, then rolled off again in an ungainly thump.
Ros glared at the resulting spiderweb spindling across the glass.
Fuck.
She got out of the car, mildly annoyed that the man was well and alive and trying to pick himself back up with a groan.
"Finance is going to have a field day with the insurance." She watched him stagger to his feet, clutching his left arm. "I don't think they have a column for Accidental Stupidity."
The man in the black bomber jacket glanced up at her and tried, Lord knows why, for a smile. Something twinged, and his face pulled into a grimace instead.
"I thought homeland security was our department," he angled, leaning back on the car to hide his leg wobble. "What's Six doing chasing a small bit arms dealer from Salford?"
"Small bait for big fish." She eyed the trickle of blood winding its way down from his hairline. "Should you be getting to the hospital before you pass out on me?"
He smiled at her again, a twist of lips made rather goofy by the mild concussion, and she shook her head. Since when did Section D start promoting officers this young? The kid looked barely into his mid-twenties.
"I'll be fine," he huffed. "But you carry on - I think I saw our guy Raleigh take a turn down the main street."
Yes, she saw that too - as did her partner, who had undoubtedly caught up to their target in his undamaged Volvo by now. She would never hear the end of this one.
With a sigh, and another glare at the shine of sun glancing off the cracked glass pane, she reached into her pocket for her mobile and dialed Emergency Services.
"Accident at Newlands Quay. Pedestrian versus vehicle."
The man watched her with a wary amusement, right hand still cradling the other arm.
"Yes." She looked over at him. "Nothing serious." Unfortunately.
He raised an eyebrow at the unspoken sentiment that must have writ large on her face, and her scowl deepened. Well. If he planned on running into moving traffic, the least he could do was have the decency to get banged up good and proper.
She flipped the phone shut, and crossed her arms.
"Five minutes. There's a jam on the A13."
"Guess you're stuck with me for a while more," he said, then, tucking his bad arm to his side, held out a hand. "Lucas."
She groaned inwardly. Did they teach them nothing these days? And these were the ones safeguarding their national borders - she might just take up that job offer from Harry Pearce to make sure there was someone there to teach the newbies how to Not Fuck Up.
His hand was still outstretched and waiting. She took hold of it, and steered it back to his left elbow. Gave it a condescending pat.
"Good for you."
His grin never left his face. She sighed, and checked her watch.
Four minutes.