milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It's one of those posts.

There's a spoilerific and mildly tipsy Desmond in a booth, sketching something that might be a snowglobe, only that's silly, right?

Another booth has a Hawkeye, with a glass of scotch and a newspaper from home -- it's amazing what Bar'll give you.

At a table by the noticeboard is Wes, copying English words from the various signs and seeing how much he can translate without checking the primer. (Answer: not many. Rose is watching from the next table over, smirking slightly at each mistake. It's great being able to read anything. Yay TARDIS!)

Ben's at the Bar with a chocolate milkshake -- that's not changed after three years, apparently. He's stealing occasional curious glances at an uneasy man nearby, though: Fi's wandered in wearing his off-duty clothes and without his brothers, but he figured he'd have a glass of fruit juice anyway. (And why not, eh?)

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She laughs. "It's okay, Wes." She deals him a hearty clap on the shoulder. "The rest of the squad likes you even though you can't hold your liquor."

He does try to keep a disapproving expression, but it turns into a rueful grin.

"That's just 'cause they like laughing at me when I'm drunk, isn't it?"

This clearly isn't a problem, though.

"You got it," she says with something that almost amounts to cheer. Most of her glass goes down in one long drink. Can't take the pilot out of the princess.

"At least I have such good squadmates," he says with a sigh, and takes a gulp of his drink. "Well, you know I'm just laughing right back at you all."

"Not me," she says. Grinning, fond eyeing of him. "Because you know I'll kill you."

"Of course," Wes agrees solemnly, nodding. "I only laugh at you when you're not looking."

"Smart man."

She just called Wes smart, didn't she?

"In a stupid kind of way."

Wes grins wryly. "I'll take that as a compliment. I mean, takes talent to be both at once. Only I could manage it."

Flat look. "That's exactly the spirit it was intended in."

Except, not. As might be obvious from the sarcasm.

"You know, one day, you'll be really nice to me, and I just won't know what to do with myself."

"You'd better go do something you've always wanted to do. Dodge the flying Gamorreans and avoid the hells icing over."

"Huh." Thoughtfully, "Well, I know one flying Gamorrean. Does that mean it'll be soon, then? I should probably learn to ice-skate."

She scoffs. "Yeah, okay, Janson."

Wes grins at her.

"You sound so cynical."

Plourr? Cynical? Never.

"I'm sorry if I don't believe in flying Gamorreans." 'Cept she's really not apologetic. At all. It's more just sarcastic. "It's a Thing. Called making sense." Beat. "You're not."

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