Biscuits.
This fic sprang from an idea that I discussed over the internet with someone.
The question goes as follows: What would Lord Vetinari's favourite biscuits be?
I don't own Havelock Vetinari (*sob*) or Drumknott, or the City Council. Or Jammy Dodgers.
WARNING: WILL BE OOC.
Biscuits:
After the city council had disperced, Lord Havelock Vetinari dismissed Dromknott and sat at his desk with hands clasped togather and thinking.
Finally, he sighed, stood up and walked the short distance to his bedroom, locking the door behind him as he did so.
He crossed the small room swiftly and pulled down the blinds, stopping for a second as he lifted the bottom of the blind slightly and appeared to check the arae outside his window.
Satisfied with the result that nothing was there, he undressed quickly and put on a black toweling-robe.
He then got into bed and blew out the candle that had been on his bedside cabinet.
However, Lord Vetinari did not go to sleep or even try to for that matter. He sat up, swunging his legs over the edge of the bed so that he was perched on the edge and looked about his room suspiciously, checking for any hidden iconographs.
When he was certain that he wasn't being watched, he reached down beneath his bed and extracted a small box.
It was a red box, with yellow writing on it.
Havelock Vetinari held the box on his lap and stared down at it, hungrily.
The thick yellow writing spelled out the words: "Jammy Dodgers".
He licked his lips and, hands trembling ever-so-slighty, opened one end of the box.
He carefully reached inside and drew out the hard plastic holding the biscuits.
Long thin fingers carefully picked up one of the biscuitsand lifted it to Lord Vetinari's eye-level. He stared at it for some time, after a while he lowered the Jammy Dodger to his lips, and, with spotless white teeth, nibbled the sweet and slightly sickly biscuit part.
He continued to do this until only the jam in the middle of the biscuit was left, he popped this into his mouthand chewed slowly, savouring the thick texture.
He swallowed and picked another. This time he bit into it, wolfing it down. He did this with the rest of the biscuits.
Eventually he finished the packet and looked down at the hard red plastic. The red plastic seemed to be looking back at him, mockingly.
He sighed sorrowfully, walked up to the window, drew back the blinds halfway, opened the window, and threw the box away as far as he could, disposing the evidence of his addiction.
He also liked his fingers clean of the crumbs that had accumulated there.
This fic sprang from an idea that I discussed over the internet with someone.
The question goes as follows: What would Lord Vetinari's favourite biscuits be?
I don't own Havelock Vetinari (*sob*) or Drumknott, or the City Council. Or Jammy Dodgers.
WARNING: WILL BE OOC.
Biscuits:
After the city council had disperced, Lord Havelock Vetinari dismissed Dromknott and sat at his desk with hands clasped togather and thinking.
Finally, he sighed, stood up and walked the short distance to his bedroom, locking the door behind him as he did so.
He crossed the small room swiftly and pulled down the blinds, stopping for a second as he lifted the bottom of the blind slightly and appeared to check the arae outside his window.
Satisfied with the result that nothing was there, he undressed quickly and put on a black toweling-robe.
He then got into bed and blew out the candle that had been on his bedside cabinet.
However, Lord Vetinari did not go to sleep or even try to for that matter. He sat up, swunging his legs over the edge of the bed so that he was perched on the edge and looked about his room suspiciously, checking for any hidden iconographs.
When he was certain that he wasn't being watched, he reached down beneath his bed and extracted a small box.
It was a red box, with yellow writing on it.
Havelock Vetinari held the box on his lap and stared down at it, hungrily.
The thick yellow writing spelled out the words: "Jammy Dodgers".
He licked his lips and, hands trembling ever-so-slighty, opened one end of the box.
He carefully reached inside and drew out the hard plastic holding the biscuits.
Long thin fingers carefully picked up one of the biscuitsand lifted it to Lord Vetinari's eye-level. He stared at it for some time, after a while he lowered the Jammy Dodger to his lips, and, with spotless white teeth, nibbled the sweet and slightly sickly biscuit part.
He continued to do this until only the jam in the middle of the biscuit was left, he popped this into his mouthand chewed slowly, savouring the thick texture.
He swallowed and picked another. This time he bit into it, wolfing it down. He did this with the rest of the biscuits.
Eventually he finished the packet and looked down at the hard red plastic. The red plastic seemed to be looking back at him, mockingly.
He sighed sorrowfully, walked up to the window, drew back the blinds halfway, opened the window, and threw the box away as far as he could, disposing the evidence of his addiction.
He also liked his fingers clean of the crumbs that had accumulated there.