A response to a plotbunny, suggested by Angharad, on the Norrington Defense League boards. You see, at the NDL, our job is to defend Norrington and Gillette (and occasionally Swann) from fanfictional villainization. So, in a brilliant scheme by Wren, one of my sisters in commodore-defense, we have created our own two Honorary Canonicals, a commodore-lieutenant duo that's actually evil, so the idiot Mary Sue authors who bastardize Norrington and Gillette for no reason will have a decoy duo to pick on. These Honorary Canonicals are Commodore Matthew Bennett and Lieutenant Jean-Jacques Moncrieff. They are played by Colin Firth and Rupert Everett respectively. Moncrieff is a nasty little bastard, and Bennett is just...well, he's Colin Firth. 'Nuff said. Standard disclaimers apply--I own Bennett and Moncrieff, though I stole their last names from Jane Austen and Oscar Wilde, but sadly, I do not own Colin and Rupert. *sighs*

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Norrington was unaware of the eyes watching him from the corner. Dark eyes, gazing upon him over the rim of a wineglass with a dangerous, calculating expression. Yes, *this* was a commodore worthy of note. Straight-backed and gallant, conversing politely with insipid socialite women about the weather, the holiday, his bachelorhood--oh, that was fortunate. Bachelorhood. Or perhaps not quite so fortunate; it was always more sport to seduce married men.

The commodore's first officer hovered by his side, smirking behind his hand as Lady Evremonde-Manette caught at the commodore's arm as he attempted to escape and asked him what he thought of the lovely Christmas tree for the fifth time in as many minutes.

The observer in the corner stood, stretching his legs languidly, and sauntered over to join the conversation. "Madame. If you'll pardon me, I must request an audience with the commodore to speak of military matters." A surefire way to get rid of a woman, he thought, and he was quite right, as she lifted her hoopskirts and left with her nose in the air.

"That was rather rude," said Norrington, and then, glancing furtively around, "Thank you."

"Not a problem, Commodore." Norrington's savior extended a beringed hand. "Lieutenant Moncrieff, at your service."

"Ah, yes." Norrington shook Moncrieff's hand politely. "The new Second Lieutenant of the Dauntless, is it? You'll be working directly under Gillette here."

"A pleasure to meet him as well, I'm sure." Moncrieff's gaze never left Norrington's for a second, and he shook the commodore's hand slightly longer than was necessary. Gillette drew in a sharp, indignant breath through clenched teeth, and Norrington let go of Moncrieff's hand abruptly, narrowing his eyes.

"Perhaps I should introduce you to him, as well," he said coldly. "He happens to be standing directly behind me."

Gillette did not extend his hand, and inclined his head irritably towards his new subordinate. "Gillette, First Lieutenant of the HMS Dauntless. I would advise you not to forget it."

"And I would advise you to loosen your collar a bit," said Moncrieff smoothly. "Figuratively speaking, of course. It would be dreadful if we all got off on the wrong foot, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, simply catastrophic," Gillette sneered. Norrington shot him a warning look.

"The way things are around here, Lieutenant," he said, "it's best to be less inflammatory. Watch what you say next time you're introduced to your superior."

Moncrieff glanced patronizingly down his pointed nose at the seething young lieutenant. "I will."

He sauntered off, and his last thought on the matter that night, not without some degree of satisfaction, was that he was at least three inches taller than Lieutenant Gillette.

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*giggle* That's true, too. I looked them both up. Rupert Everett is 6' 4", and Damian O'Hare (squee!) is 6' 1". I'm going to stop being fangirlish now and do my history homework like a good little AP student. *procrastinates*