[fic] the man with the missing thumb [tp]

I am a little bit grumpy. I was reading a discussion of race earlier this evening, and read, I was raised to be colo[u]rblind, which is a phrase that never fails to make me want to stomp about my house ranting about how I hate all humans. I suppose there might be people in the world who honestly do not see the difference between people born in different countries, of different cultures, but even if there are, I have to question them anyway because actually I like being Chinese-Australian, and actually it does mean that I'm different from my partner, who is not.

I don't know where I'm going with this, I just hate that sentence, I'm colourblind, it makes me so angry.

To cheer me up, I thought I would post this old thing, a piece of fic that will probably never be finished. Rereading it delighted me, and I hope that it might delight some of you also.

I originally started writing it at the prompting of piecesofalice.

***

His mobile rings, and he softly kisses his way along her skin. He scrabbles beside the bed for his phone, and answers on the third ring. "Excuse me," he says to her, and she smiles. "Yes?" he says into the phone.

"Ah, 007." Jarod can hear the sound of footsteps echoing above Sydney's voice; he presses the phone closer to his ear and turns away from the girl. "I have a job for you."

"Excellent," Jarod says. "Can I call you back?" He doesn't wait for an answer; dips his head for a kiss as a bullet buzzes overhead. "Thank you, darling," he says, as he rolls out of the bed and pulls his shirt on. "You were fantastic.

**

DUN DUN DAH DAAAAAAAH DADUHDUUUUUH, DUNDADUN DUNDUNDUN (etc)


JAROD BOND IN:

( THE MAN WITH THE MISSING THUMB )