Further Negotiations Amongst the Penguins (John Finnemore's Double Acts)

[starfishstar]

FURTHER NEGOTIATIONS AMONGST THE PENGUINS

Fandom: John Finnemore's Double Acts

Summary: Stuck inside on a stormy night, Søndergaard and Bunning talk about divorce, love, loneliness, and what it takes to build a nest together. They’re talking about the penguins. Obviously.

Characters: Søndergaard/Bunning

Words: 2,400

Notes: A Yuletide gift for calliatra.

Dear Calliatra, what a pleasure to be matched to you! Your Penguin Diplomacy prompts were so delightful, I knew I had to write you a fic in this fandom. (Though it’s a daunting task, because Penguin Diplomacy itself is so perfectly crafted that it’s hard to know where to go from there!) Thank you also for mentioning script format – I’ve had great fun setting myself the challenge of writing this story as though it really were a radio play.

For anyone who doesn’t know it, John Finnemore’s “Penguin Diplomacy” is a charming, funny, and extremely clever half-hour radio play and so very much worth a listen.

And thank you so much to Karios, who jumped in to beta this fic sight totally unseen, not knowing me OR the canon. True Yuletide kindness!


Read on AO3, or here below:
 

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EXT. THE SHORE OF A SMALL ISLAND IN STORMY WEATHER.

ATMOS: WIND, WATER BEATING AGAINST ROCKS.

NARRATOR: This is a tiny, rocky island somewhere in the far south Atlantic Ocean. It is variously known as Goodwill Island or Skarvsten Ø, depending whom you ask. Currently, the island has status as no man’s land, sovereignty of it being stoutly rejected by both Britain and Denmark. This curious state of peaceful neglect exists thanks to the clever negotiations of two unlikely adversaries. Ah, here they are now.

FX: A SMALL MOTOR LAUNCH APPROACHING.

SØNDERGAARD: (CHEERFULLY, CONTINUING A LONG-RUNNING JOKE) Ahoy! Is this Governor Bunning of South Georgia and associated British dependencies I see approaching? Do you come here to visit and inspect your British territory?

BUNNING: (GRUNTING WITH EFFORT AS HE TRIES TO MANEUVER HIS LAUNCH ONTO THE ROCKY BEACH AGAINST THE WAVES) No, no, Søndergaard, my good man, I have in fact just left British territory, and come here to pay my respects to a neighbouring nation, this being after all Danish soil.

SØNDERGAARD: Well, close enough. Do you need a hand there?

FX: BOAT SCRAPING ON THE SHORE.

BUNNING: Thank you. Whew! Quite squally today, isn’t it?

SØNDERGAARD: It is indeed! Come inside, come inside, I’ve made some stew.

BUNNING: …How much seaweed is there in it?

SØNDERGAARD: Barely any at all! Just a little pinch. Next to none, really.

FX: A DOOR OPENING, THEN CLOSING. THE SOUNDS OF WIND AND OCEAN ARE NOW GONE.

FX: DISHES CLATTERING.

SØNDERGAARD: Here you go, one bowl of mostly-crab-and-barely-at-all-seaweed stew. But before you begin –

FX: SLOWLY AND CAREFULLY, A SPOON TAPS AGAINST A DISH IN THE FOLLOWING PATTERN: SHORT, LONG SHORT, SHORT LONG LONG LONG, LONG LONG LONG, LONG SHORT LONG LONG.

A PAUSE, THEN:

BUNNING: Oh, very good! You’ve been practising your Morse code. “Enjoy”, was it?

SØNDERGAARD: My intention had been to memorise the entirety of “enjoy your meal”, but you arrived a bit sooner than I expected.

BUNNING: Nevertheless, a commendable effort.

FX: A BRIEF INTERLUDE OF EATING, SILVERWARE CLINKING; THEN DISHES BEING SET ASIDE.

SØNDERGAARD: A game of chess, perhaps?

BUNNING: Oh, go on then. One of these days I’m sure to beat you.

SØNDERGAARD: So you say!

FX: STONE CHESS PIECES BEING SET ON A BOARD.

ATMOS: THROUGHOUT THE NEXT LINES, SOUNDS OF THE WIND OUTSIDE BEGIN TO CREEP IN UNDER THE DIALOGUE.

BUNNING: Have you settled on a name for Humphrey Bogart and John Wayne’s chick yet?

SØNDERGAARD: I have been thinking of calling her Katharine Hepburn. She’s such a spirited penguin.

BUNNING: Excellent, excellent.

FX: CLINK OF A CHESS PIECE ON THE BOARD.

BUNNING (CONT’D): Aha, there: checkmate!

FX: ANOTHER CHESS PIECE.

SØNDERGAARD: No.

BUNNING: Ah.

ATMOS: THE WIND IS NOW WAILING.

FX: FURTHER CHESS PIECES.

SØNDERGAARD: Checkmate.

BUNNING: Oh well.

FX: CHESS PIECES BEING RESET.

SØNDERGAARD: I hate to put a damper on the mood, but it sounds as though you may not be able to return to South Georgia this evening. The wind is getting rather strong.

BUNNING: (NOT AT ALL SURE) Oh, I’m sure it will be fine.

SØNDERGAARD: Really, I think you’d better stay the night here. These storms usually blow over by morning, but it won’t be very nice out there right now.

BUNNING: No, no, I couldn’t possibly.

SØNDERGAARD: You would rather risk your life in a small boat in a storm than accept my hospitality for the night?

BUNNING: As a matter of fact, yes, because to accept Danish hospitality would amount to a tacit acknowledgement of the legitimacy of the Danish claim vis-à-vis: which of these islands is Goodwill Island and which is Skarvsten Ø. To visit is one thing, but to actually stay a night on the island, thereby accepting the Danish claim, would be a clear dereliction of my duties and could well cause a diplomatic incident.

SØNDERGAARD: What nonsense!

BUNNING: (FORMAL, PERHAPS A LITTLE AFFRONTED) Nonsense it may be, but these are my obligations to the government I represent, and I take them seriously.

SØNDERGAARD: My dear chap, I don’t know about your British culture, but in Denmark, the comfort of the guest is paramount. I would never presume to disagree with you while you are a guest under my roof. If you say that this island is Danish territory, well, then for the course of the night I will be forced to agree with you.

A PAUSE.

BUNNING: All right, all right, I see I must concede.

SØNDERGAARD: You have my word on it, there will be no diplomatic incident tonight.

BUNNING: I accept your word, thank you, and I accept your hospitality. My apologies, I didn’t mean to be ungracious about it.

ANOTHER PAUSE, THEN AN APPRECIATIVE CHUCKLE FROM BUNNING.

BUNNING (CONT’D): You know, you sounded rather like me just then.

SØNDERGAARD: (ALL INNOCENCE) Did I?

BUNNING: The ‘my dear chap’ bit, the tricky negotiations…

SØNDERGAARD: Oh, well, I suppose one does begin to take after one’s most frequent conversation partner after a time. So! Your first night on Goodwill Island. Ah – excuse me, I mean to say Skarvsten Ø, of course; I very much mean to say that this is your first night here on Skarvsten Ø. This calls for something a bit celebratory. Brandy?

BUNNING: No need to gloat about it, you impossible Dane. (BEAT) Yes, all right, a little one.

FX: TWO GLASSES BEING POURED.

SØNDERGAARD: Skål.

BUNNING: Cheers.

FX: UNDERNEATH THE NEXT LINES, WE HEAR INTERMITTENT SOUNDS OF THE GLASSES BEING LIFTED AND SET BACK DOWN ON THE TABLE, AS BOTH MEN SIP THEIR DRINKS.

A LONG-ISH PAUSE.

BUNNING (CONT’D): So… Penguins!

SØNDERGAARD: Yes, penguins.

BUNNING: You know, you never did tell me why you decided to study penguin divorce. I mean, out of all the possible things one might study about penguins.

SØNDERGAARD: Well, you see, I have been divorced myself.

BUNNING: …My dear fellow, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.

SØNDERGAARD: Oh, it’s quite all right. It was some time ago now, before the war. We were happy for some years and then we were no longer happy, and it was never very clear to me what changed. So when I arrived here, I thought lancelot penguins and their nesting behaviour might shed some light on the subject. But as you know, most of the lancelot penguin divorces I’ve observed have depended rather heavily on the interferences of Lauren Bacall. And I can tell you quite definitely that Lauren Bacall played no role at all in my own divorce.

BUNNING: No, I wouldn’t imagine so.

SØNDERGAARD: I spent several years after the end of my marriage being rather unhappy; and then came the war, which as you know was for me a crowded experience. So then I thought that perhaps I would try out being all alone by choice, instead of lonely in a crowd. And I found this island, my nice little island with my nice little penguins and no one else around, and I have enjoyed my solitude ever since.

BUNNING: Until I came by and started bothering you.

SØNDERGAARD: (SERENELY) These days I choose my company very carefully, you know.

BUNNING: That makes me all the sorrier to think that I’ve interrupted your solitude.

SØNDERGAARD: I choose my company very carefully. I don’t invite anyone into my home whose companionship I don’t enjoy.

BUNNING: Oh. Oh. Well, then I’m honoured. Thank you.

FX: CONTINUED SMALL NOISES OF GLASSES ON THE TABLE, RUSTLES OF MOVEMENT.

SØNDERGAARD: What about you? Have you been married or anything of that sort?

BUNNING: Oh, no, never been married. In that way I’m more like John Wayne, I suppose. John Wayne the penguin, I mean. (PAUSE, REALISES WHAT HE’S SAID) Oh – no! No, I didn’t mean –

SØNDERGAARD: No, no, I understand you. You too are more of a loner. You have not built a nest of your own, so to speak.

BUNNING: Yes, exactly. Exactly. That’s exactly what I mean.

A PAUSE. BUNNING COUGHS AWKWARDLY.

SØNDERGAARD: Your glass is empty. Another brandy?

BUNNING: Yes. Yes, thank you.

FX: GLASSES BEING POURED.

SØNDERGAARD: Skål.

BUNNING: Cheers.

ANOTHER PAUSE.

BUNNING (CONT’D): So… Penguins!

SØNDERGAARD: Yes, penguins.

BUNNING: What do penguins do in the summer, now that they don’t have to sit on their eggs all day? What’s a typical day in the life of a penguin?

SØNDERGAARD: Well, mostly they are fishing, catching fish and seafood and krill. Their diet is much like mine was, before mysterious packages of British delicacies began appearing on this island with regularity.

BUNNING: Diplomatic gifts as symbolic gestures of international good will, this being Danish territory as it is.

SØNDERGAARD: Undoubtedly. Well, the penguins, not being Danish citizens in the strictest sense, continue to subsist on what seafood they can catch. So in the summer months, mostly one parent is fishing, while the other watches their chick.

BUNNING: And in the case of a, er, couple such as Humphrey Bogart and John Wayne? Who does the fishing in that family?

SØNDERGAARD: Oh, they take it in turns. And meanwhile the other one looks after little Kate.

BUNNING: Must be confusing for her, I’d imagine. Not knowing which one to consider her dad.

SØNDERGAARD: Oh, I don’t think so. She’s a very well adjusted penguin.

BUNNING: You can tell that?

SØNDERGAARD: Oh, yes. She’s a good-natured penguin and very playful. And a quick learner, too. No, all in all I think Katharine Hepburn is doing very well. We can go have a look at her in the morning before you leave, if you like.

BUNNING: That would be very nice.

FX: SMALL NOISES OF THE GLASSES ON THE TABLE.

SØNDERGAARD: As for what else penguins do in the summer… Well, they’re busy fattening themselves up, because they’ll need to fast when they moult.

BUNNING: I’m sorry, they do what?

SØNDERGAARD: They moult at the end of the breeding season – that’s when new feathers grow in, and the old ones fall off. And I must say, they look absolutely frightful for a while there, like a threadbare rug. In any case, penguins aren’t waterproof while they’re moulting, so they can’t go fishing in the sea. So they increase their body weight in the weeks before, to be able to fast on land while they moult. But really, I can’t tell you how silly they look with their feathers half on and half off. One of the most delightful seasons in the penguin year.

BUNNING: And the other penguins, what do they make of their fellows when they’re in that state?

SØNDERGAARD: Oh, I don’t think they mind. At that point all the other penguins are moulting too, so I suppose there must be a good deal of fellow feeling. Commiseration, you know: ‘Well, I look like a carpet that’s been chewed on by a dog, but then again so do you, old chap, carry on.’ Anyway, once they get through that rough patch, they can take to the sea again until the next breeding season. Free as, well, birds.

BUNNING: And when they go out to sea, once they’re done nesting for the season…do they always stay in their pairs? Seems like that would be a rather crowded life for a penguin, never getting to go off on one’s own.

SØNDERGAARD: Oh, no, no, they’re very independent! Well, I can’t speak to any other sorts of penguins, but lancelot penguins allow one another a great deal of independence. For much of the year, they swim off to wherever they like. It’s only that they know there’s a mate they can return to, back on land, when it’s time to build a nest again. Someone to come home to, as it were.

BUNNING: (QUIETLY) What a striking thought.

SØNDERGAARD: I know! Isn’t it nice to think of? All these lovely little lancelot penguins going out into the wide ocean to have their penguin adventures, which just between you and me I like to imagine are quite feather-raising. But all the time they know, too, that they can come back here to Goodwill Island – excuse me, to Skarvsten Ø – and find their mate again. Charming, isn’t it?

BUNNING: Yes, it’s – indeed, yes, that’s just what I was thinking. Such a charming life. For the penguins.

SØNDERGAARD: (SLOWLY, CAREFULLY) Or…for a human. Perhaps.

BUNNING: (FAST AND TENSE) What do you mean?

SØNDERGAARD: Well if, say, one penguin were to build a little nest. And furnish it with rocks, and scrape together some simple meals of crabs and such. And if another penguin wanted to visit sometimes and nest there together. Well, that would be very nice, that’s all.

BUNNING: A penguin, you say.

SØNDERGAARD: Yes, that’s what I meant. Just, you know, one penguin nesting with another. As they do.

BUNNING: And if that second penguin were always having to come and go, because he had a great number of responsibilities to, er, inspect…fishing grounds and such. That wouldn’t bother the first penguin?

SØNDERGAARD: No, not at all. After all, penguins like their solitude as well as their nesting.

BUNNING: They do, don’t they?

SØNDERGAARD: Oh, yes.

BUNNING: But they like, er, nesting. As well.

SØNDERGAARD: When they find the right penguin to nest with. Which now and then, if they’re lucky, they do. Even if they’re very choosey.

BUNNING: That…would be quite an honour, wouldn’t it. To be chosen by a choosey penguin.

SØNDERGAARD: Mm, I think so. And all the better if it’s two choosey penguins, both choosing each other.

A PAUSE.

ATMOS: THE WIND OUTSIDE IS JUST AUDIBLE UNDERNEATH.

SØNDERGAARD (CONT’D): By the way…it wouldn’t really have caused a diplomatic incident, you accepting my hospitality like this, would it?

BUNNING: No, I suppose I only said that because – well, the fact of the matter is – oh, dash it all, I only said that because I – well – it’s an awfully snug little place here, isn’t it? Not much room for two fellows to knock about separately, is there? And I, er – hrm –

FX: A SOFT RUSTLE, AS OF A SHIRTSLEEVE GRAZING ACROSS A TABLETOP.

A PAUSE.

BUNNING: You’re holding my hand.

SØNDERGAARD: Does it bother you terribly?

BUNNING: …No. No, it doesn’t bother me.

SØNDERGAARD: And if I offered you room in my nest, so to speak? Would that be bothersome to you?

BUNNING: On consideration, Søndergaard…I think I wouldn’t mind that all.

MUSIC SWELLS, AS THE STORM OUTSIDE CONTINUES FAINTLY UNDERNEATH.

UP AND OUT.


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End notes:

While writing this fic, I finally thought to look up what “Skarvsten” translates to, because I couldn’t imagine John giving something a name and not having it mean something clever and relevant.

For anyone else who’d like to know, I’m delighted to tell you that in Danish “skarv sten” = “cormorant rock”.

So, Skarvsten Ø is Cormorant Rock Island. <3 <3 <3


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