stilljustandrew (
stilljustandrew) wrote in
milliways_bar2006-05-18 10:39 pm
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*There's an Andrew in the bar. At the Bar itself, in fact.*
*He's got a small picnic basket, and is carefully packing it with one item after another as they appear, preparatory for a visit to a certain someone in the infirmary.*
...And maybe some of that green stuff he drinks, in a thermos or something?
*The thermos materializes.*
*He's got a small picnic basket, and is carefully packing it with one item after another as they appear, preparatory for a visit to a certain someone in the infirmary.*
...And maybe some of that green stuff he drinks, in a thermos or something?
*The thermos materializes.*
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"There's math," she says. River approves of this.
"Creative application of the dynamic principles of hyper-dimensional torsion."
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*Andrew grins, a little wryly.*
He's in the infirmary. I'm making him a care package.
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She doesn't sound at all certain. Or reassured.
"Didn't say bye." That's in the same hesitant tone; it doesn't sound as if she's complaining, or hurt.
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He's gonna be okay, though. You could visit him, if you like.
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How're you?
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Because she is clearly the one being sensible and comprehensible, here.
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*He's starting to get a crick in his neck from looking up, though.*
You coming down from there anytime soon?
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"The odds are calculable," she concludes.
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