yourunichase | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

A couple of weeks ago, I told people we'd do thanksgiving, but we'd do it as a home-cooking sort of thing. So, people, give me what you want for home cooking and I'll ask the Admiral for it. Simple and easy. From people other places than Earth, we're asking for your stuff too, and as with everything else we'll do our fucking best.

[Private to the Admiral]
Alright. I've given it my best try, but it's not fucking working. Unpair us, and give her to someone nice or something.

[Friends filter]
I've done it. I've unpaired myself from Atia. I need a fucking drink. ~~And a reason not to leave.~~

[Private to Atia]
It's done.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sounds like a plan.

[And George is, true to his word, in his room. His Bible is out, but he isn't reading it, and he's drinking a tea.

There may be more than tea in the cup.]

[Parker arrives slightly later than she said, and she looks a bit distant when she knocked on the door.

People leaving are never good for Parker.]

[George ushers her inside. Even he is less youthfully enthusiastic than normal.]

Thank you for coming. What can I offer you? I have a good stock of nearly everything.

Scotch.

[Parker watches him for a moment, and a look of almost concern crosses her face.]

What happened?

[George pours two generous scotches, sets them down, and sighs.]

I...died.

[Parker wonders if it's a bad sign that she's been here for so long that the dying didn't even matter to her. It'd been that many times.

She picked up the scotch and took a large swig of it before she responded.]

But you didn't not really, cause you're fucking here, right?

[George only plays with his glass.]

I would very much like to look at it that way, but it's proving quite difficult.

Have you never had the death toll?

[Parker watched him for a moment, and then she considered.]

[George shakes his head.]

I haven't. But this was a different situation even from that sort of thing, wasn't it?

Not really. Dead is dead.

You've been flood affected, right?

Well, yes. Of course. Why?

[George goes for his scotch finally.]

What have floods turned you into, Georgie?

[Parker took a sip of her scotch and watched him.]

[George swallows.]

Um. A Pinkerton Detective. A fellow who sold property. A piggy...

How did you feel when that happened? Afterwards?

[George looks thoughtful.]

I enjoyed being a detective. The other two: not so much.

How'd you get over that?

[Parker took another long drink of her scotch, and then she added more to her glass, and topped his off as well.]

I mainly try to speak and think about it as little as possible.

So look at this as just another fucking flood. Don't think about it.

I would like to, believe me. But I still haven't managed to stop being embarrassed by and thinking about that time I was a pig, and this was far more serious.

[Parker couldn't stop herself from chuckling at that, and then she leaned over and touched his arm.]

Your heart still works. Brain still works. Breathing still fucking works. You were just a minute out of time.

[George does seem comforted by that.]

Just a rather long minute, I suppose.

Yep. You're here, you're fucking fine. We all are.

[Parker took his hand for a moment, and then she pinched the back of it, squeezing hard.]

What was that for?

Did it hurt?

[Parker locked eyes with him.]

Spam?

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Spam!

Re: Spam!

Spam!