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James Lester sat comfortably in front of the fire, a book in hand, glass of scotch on the small table beside his chair, enjoying the peace. It was a short lived enjoyment.

The front door slammed loudly, the telltale stomp of his lover approaching. Lester watched him over the top of his book; as he poured himself a drink, downing it in one go, before pouring another.

"Now I know you weren't in a foul mood when I left yesterday and there were no anomalies today, so what happened?" Lester asked.

Cutter scowled. "Helen."

Lester's expression darkened. "What about Helen?"

"She's been talking to Stephen," Cutter said. "Trying to convince him that you're our mole."

"And you know this how?" Lester asked. "I thought you were still being stubborn and not talking to Hart."

Cutter glared. "I'm not being... he slept with my wife, I think I'm allowed to be angry and besides, that's not the point, the point is Helen is once again trying to fuck me over."

"Cutter, Helen is a manipulative bitch; she knew exactly what she was doing revealing her affair with Stephen. You know my feelings on this, you can be angry, but it's no reason to throw away eight years of friendship," Lester said. "And Helen is always trying to fuck us over, we'll deal with her."

Cutter sighed. "Were you always this..."

"Wise, intelligent..."

"Annoying," Cutter said with a grin.

"I like wise better," Lester said. "Was I really so different before?"

Cutter shrugged. "I think we'd have killed each other in a week if we'd been involved."

Lester chuckled. "It's a wonder we haven't killed each other in *this* reality."

"I suppose I never really gave you a chance before," Cutter said. "I was still too hung up on Helen and there was... so much going on."

Lester nodded knowingly. "Well I had a perfectly horrid day. The Prime minister seems determined to piss me off. He's worse than Helen."

Cutter snorted. "I might give you that one."

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