I will live and die on the avowed-Anglophile-Dirk-Gently train, but I also think it would be hilarious if it turns out that he has no real opinions on tea? Or that he’s absolutely shit at making it?
He’ll either take the teabag out after ten seconds or he’ll overbrew it by leaving it in for fifteen minutes.He can’t taste the difference between Earl Grey and English Breakfast. He adds milk to green tea, and sugar to chai. He assumes that tea works the same as coffee and adds every single flavoured syrup under the sun. Todd and Farah are beside themselves trying to brew tea properly (”he’s from England, he probably has tea in his veins”) and Dirk’s happily sitting in his wheely chair taking shots of something lukewarm and vaguely medicinal that he threw in the microwave.
One time he throws a handful of leaves from Todd’s cupboard into the kettle and drinks the results, and that’s how the rest of the agency end up discovering what boiled parsley water tastes like (”the universe did not bloody well want us poisoned, Dirk!”).
Farah was waiting for Deacon in the Railroad HQ’s common room. She didn’t give him the chance to sit down or even close the door before she declared, “I know you’ve been spying on me.”
Deacon flashed her a charming grin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Artificer,” he said, calling her by her new codename. He sat down on a pre-war, plastic chair, propped his feet on the table, and placed his hands behind his neck, fingers intertwined.
Farah remained unmoved and said, “I don’t believe you.”
“Good,” Deacon stated. “The first rule to espionage is to never go against your gut. If you think somebody’s lying to you, then nine times out of ten, they are.”
“So. You do admit to spying on me.”
Deacon shrugged his shoulders and kept smiling.
Farah gazed down at the floor and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She knew Deacon was one of the Diamond City security guards and the trader from Hangman’s Alley. Three bald men, all slightly below average height, all wearing the same cheap pair of sunglasses? Ockham’s Razor would suggest they were the same person, which led Farah to only one conclusion: Deacon wanted her to know he’d spied on her.
“I’m not naive,” she told him. “I know the Railroad would be hesitant to trust someone from the Institute.”
Deacon gaped as he feigned shock. “You’re from the Institute?”
“And you still vouched for me. I want to know why.”
Farah watched as Deacon planted his feet back onto the floor. He leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and stared at her from behind his dark shades. From the smirk on his face, Deacon seemed impressed.
“People can’t choose where they come from,” he said. “What they can choose is how they act.”
If you’re still taking prompts: Todd gives Dirk that infamous red jacket™ to make him feel better, Dirk wishes he still had that Mexican funeral t-shirt to complete his look (Blackwing took it away)
I’m always taking prompts!
love this prompt btw.
Todd glanced at the shop windows as he and Farah made their way through the street. When he saw a bright red leather jacket in one of them, his first thought was ‘well ain’t that subtle.’
That thought was immediately followed by ‘I know who would love that.’
“Hey, Farah, can we stop for a second?” He asked.
They had been sent to town to get dinner for the mystery squad (as Tina called it), though Farah had protested since they were both wanted by the FBI. Hobbs assured them that they’d be fine in Bergsberg.
Farah furrowed her brow. “Uh, sure. Why?”
Todd suddenly felt a little embarrassed about his impulse. “Uh, I wanted to stop by that store.” Todd gestured towards the shop.
“Okay.” Farah replied in her signature ‘I don’t know what’s going on but I won’t ask’ voice.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” Todd said before walking into the store.
He went straight to the jacket - which he could spot from the other side of the shop - and went to pay. The lady at the counter gave him a weird look because he was paying with cash and Todd just gave her an awkward smile. He thought explaining that he was wanted by the FBI and couldn’t use a card because he could be tracked wouldn’t be a great idea.
“Are you sure this is the right size?” The woman asked.
“Oh. Yeah, it’s not for me.” Todd replied.
“Oh, alright. What a nice gift.” She remarked.
Todd smiled as a response and walked out to meet Farah.
Of course the woman had given him a transparent bag to put the jacket in, so Farah saw its contents the second he walked out of the store.
“Totally your style.” Farah said.
Todd blushed. “Let’s just go.”
Back at the Bergsberg sheriff station, Todd found Dirk sitting in a room by himself. He didn’t look especially upset, but he had had a constant cloud of dread hanging over him since he found his way back to them.
“Hey.” Todd said as he entered the room.
Dirk lifted his eyes to meet his. “Hello, Todd.”
“You okay?” Todd asked.
“Perfectly fine.” Dirk replied. Then his eyes fell to the bag in Todd’s hand.
“What is that? A clue?” Dirk asked.
“Oh, no, it’s a… Well it’s for you.” Todd said and pushed the back into Dirk’s hands and sat next to him on the couch.
“For me? Why?” Dirk asked but before Todd could answer, Dirk had pulled the jacket out of the bag and found out what it was. “Oh my God! I love it!” He exclaimed.
“Yeah? Good.” Todd replied.
Dirk stood up and pulled the jacket on. “How do I look?” He asked.
“Great.” Todd answered immediately. “Uh, it suits you.”
“Thank you!” Dirk grinned and sat back down.
“What’s the occasion?” He asked.
“No occasion. I just… I don’t know. I saw it and thought you’d like it.” Todd explained.
Dirk’s expression softened. “Really?” He asked.
“Yeah. It does kind of scream ‘Dirk’, doesn’t it?” Todd smiled.
“I believe it does.” Dirk laughed. “Thank you, Todd. So much.”
They smiled at each other just long enough to make it weird. Then Dirk looked down.
“I’ll try not to ruin it.” He said.
Todd furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”
“I love the jacket. And I loved the Mexican Funeral shirt. And you told me not to get shot in it, which I didn’t, but I assume it meant generally not to ruin it and while I didn’t, it was in perfect condition, it was what I was wearing when Blackwing got me so… I don’t know what happened to it. I was only allowed to wear the clothes they gave me. I never got it back.” Dirk explained sadly. “And I really loved that shirt.” He sighed.
Todd turned fully towards him on the couch. “Dirk. You were kidnapped and managed to escape. It’s just a shirt. It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does! It was my favorite shirt!” Dirk argued.
“You had it for a day?”
“It was a gift! From you! And about you! Of course it was my favorite!” Dirk exclaimed.
The expression on Dirk’s face hurt Todd. He looked like a kid who had disappointed his parents.
“Dirk. I’ll get you a new one. It’s okay.” Todd reassured him.
“You said you didn’t have many left? I don’t want you to waste them, they’re a part of a precious memory.” Dirk replied.
“Even if I have to give you 10 shirts, it won’t be a waste.” Todd said and Dirk finally turned to look at him. “It is a memory but not necessarily a great one. Seeing you wear that shirt and knowing you love it makes a lot nicer memory.” Todd smiled.
Dirk looked like he was about to cry.
“Thank you, Todd. Really.” He said.
“It’s just a shirt.” Todd shrugged.
“No. It’s you letting me be a part of your life. Thank you.” Dirk said.
Todd stared at Dirk in amazement. Without really having given it a lot of thought, that was exactly what giving the shirt to Dirk had meant.
“My pleasure.” Todd replied.
Dirk smiled brightly.
Then he looked down at this jacket.
“I really do love this jacket, Todd.” He said.
“I’m glad. I wanted to cheer you up.” Todd replied.
“Well, mission accomplished! I feel like a proper holistic detective again!” Dirk exclaimed. Todd laughed.
“I need to get you something.” Dirk said in his ‘Ive got an idea!’ voice.
“No, you don’t.” Todd replied.
“Of course I do! You were so thoughtful! What should I get you? Hmm, this is an important decision, this requires some serious thought!” Dirk rambled and got up from the couch and walked towards the door.
“You’ve already given me everything I need…” Todd mumbled as he watched Dirk’s back disappear into the hallway.
if you have any ideas for fics, send me the prompts! I’d love to write them! my inbox is open! x
So last month I made a Rowdy 3 fanmix, and then I couldn’t stop thinking of doing more and before I knew it, whoops, a Farah mix was born. I love her mix of badassery and anxiety-ridden vulnerability, and I just needed to pay homage. Enjoy!
Farah’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, muscles tensing from her fingertips to her shoulders. Give her another minute and she would start muttering profanity under her breath and run over pedestrians by cutting corners.
“But will we know they are answers?” said Farah. “Or would we just pass them by without thinking and then we lose it? Or do the answers only come when Dirk’s around? What if Dirk’s the–the magnet for all things tangential?” Her voice stretched like a tensing rubber band and Todd was bracing himself to be snapped with it. “Or maybe–we do get the answer but what do we do with it? What if the answer is a blue chicken? What do we know what to do with a blue chicken?”
“An answer will come to us,” Todd said, slightly deflated.