The Grant~An IT Crowd Fanfiction

Standard Encounters with Law Enforcement

"What is it?" Imogene asked, looking at Moss with concern.

They were sitting on a bench next to the cloakroom door. Moss's head had jerked sideways, as though he had heard something very unusual.

"Moss—" Imogene began.

"Sh!" he said quickly. "I heard something."

"Well, obviously, but—"

Then Imogene heard it, too. It didn't take her long to figure out what it was.

"Oh my God," she churned, throwing a hand over her mouth. "Which...end is that?"

Moss scowled. "It seems that Roy thought it was time to feed the baby birds."

"Either that or he shat all over the walls," Richmond chimed in from a dark corner. "I really can't tell the difference."

"Blegh!" Imogene winced, shaking her head so her ponytail bounced all around. She shoved her face between her legs so her ears were pressed to her knees. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Out of the blue, a few chimes of bad rock music from 2005 began to play, and Richmond pulled his flip phone out of his pocket. "Bloody hell. It seems that someone has stolen something at Cool Subject."

Imogene perked up. "Oh no!"

"Perhaps I should go sort this out. I'll be right back."

"Yeah, you go do that."

"We'll hold the fort," said Moss.

Richmond left down the hallway, speed dialing Cool Subject as he walked away.

"And then there were two," Imogene said in a deep voice.

The sound of Roy expelling the contents of his stomach emanated from the bathroom again. Moss and Imogene exchanged looks, and Imogene let out a small laugh.

"This is no laughing matter," Moss said gravely.

"It is a little bit," she giggled. She realized she'd been looking at him too long and blushed a little as her eyes left his. She pressed the toes of her shoes together and licked her lips.

"Do you think we should go in there after him?" Moss said nervously.

She turned back to him. He was staring at her with an urgent expression on his face. His 'war general' mentality had dissipated, it seemed, for he had a hand on each knee and he was nervously clinging to the fabric of his pants with his fingers.

"I don't know," she answered. "I think he's fine. Maybe that's just the sound of him squirting the chocolate bottles. Plus bathrooms can be pretty echo-ey..."

Moss frowned again. "Maybe. But I don't want to take any chances."

"What are you going to do? Give him Pepto Bismol?"

"I'm not carrying any Pepto Bismol."

"Imodium?"

"Don't carry that either."

"Well, then we're pretty much screwed. Or he is."

Moss gasped. "Language!"

She frowned. "What? 'Screwed'?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, please. 'Screwed' isn't bad."