milliways_bar | (no subject)

"This can only end well."

Perhaps it's stupid of Sheppard to draw attention to himself. But seeing Michael, a gun (thankfully in pieces) and...whatever it is...seems like something just begging for commentary.

The fact that he's decided to start drowning his sorrows over still being Bound might play into it, too.

Sheppard sits a few seats down, occasionally sipping a beer, and trying to keep an eye on both the Wraith and the Fiend.

Most of his attention is on the diagram. He hasn't had more than a few sips of his own drink; keeps forgetting it's there. Thankfully, he's got Fi trained out of munching the chairs or tables. So he doesn't notice Sheppard.
Eventually, though, his concentration wavers and he looks up.
Swears silently.
No. He's not leaving, though he's tempted for a second.

Sheppard holds his ground as well-mainly because never turning his back on Michael seems like smart idea. He keeps watching Michael and Fi warily, frowning to himself before finally calling, "You got over the box thing, huh?"

He's not above getting his digs in when he can.

Michael puts down the pencil. "Obviously. I was a box for Halloween. You were an idiot. One can at least take a costume off," mildly, but his eyes narrow.

"I'm still not going to say I'm sorry for poking you."

Poking freaky box things remains a perfectly valid method of investigation to him.

Michael's hands slowly clench so tight that his fingers are cutting into his palm. He gives Sheppard a "you have got to be kidding me" look.
"...when exactly did I say I had any interest whatsoever in
an apology from you, of all people?"

Sheppard shrugs, taking a dirnk of his beer. "It seemed like a good thing to mention," he says blandly, although he still keeps watch of Michael.

"You seemed to be kinda ticked about the whole thing on Halloween."

" Sheppard, how much of that beer have you had?!"

"I hit the point where I don't care anymore." In other words-it's anyone but the Bar's guess.

This is why Sheppard tries to avoid getting Bound if he can help it. (He has yet to be successful.)

"But considering the crap I've had to put up with lately, I think I'm allowed it."

"You think that, do you?" Michael gets up and walks over. He's not within arm's length of Sheppard, but close enough they needn't raise their voices.
"What 'crap' would that be? Lack of opportunity to blow things up or fawn over Teyla?" His lip curls.

Sheppard raises an eyebrow as he continues to eyeball Michael, scowling to himself.

"Well, there was the whole crazy candy thing, Halloween, which I really hate in this place, and the fact that I still can't see the damn door and get out here!"

Although blowing things up could be theraputic, if slightly ironic-after all, he wants to get out of the bar to prevent Atlantis from being destroyed.

Michael has no idea what the hell Sheppard means about the candy, as he doesn't eat the stuff, but that last gets his attention.
"I see. I hadn't realized you couldn't leave--Dr.Weir, too?" since
he assumes they're from the same reality. "Interesting."

Sheppard keeps the eyebrow raised as he glares at Michael. "You think I'd still be around if I could get out?"

He has places to go, things to do, direct orders to completely ignore...

"You've always been one to make his own rules. How the hell would I know what you're up to?" Glaring back.

"I don't know. And," he adds as he takes another drink, "I really don't care."

"Then you should have left well enough the hell alone," Michael replies harshly. "I wasn't looking to bother you or her, until you insisted on
it...If you want a fight so badly, get up instead of cowering behind that," indicating the alcohol.

Sheppard continues to scowl at Michael as he puts the beer down. "When I decide to really go looking for a fight with you, it's not going to be here."

"Of course not." Michael edges closer. "You might lose, here. No backup or that so-called 'cure' you used on us the last time."

"I was thinking more that security would keep us from finishing things."

"Us?" Michael's scornful. "Speak for yourself."

Sheppard just scowls in response-he can't really argue that Michael's got a definite advantage in the weapons department. Nature was very kind to the Wraith in that respect.

Well, Michael's really not thinking of
anything but a strong desire to see Sheppard in a lot of pain. The man would probably give him indigestion.
But he's clear out of patience, with everything that's happened recently.
So while Sheppard's talking/scowling/drinking, Michael's been trying to sneak closer.

Fortunately for Sheppard, he's still able to keep an eye on somebody while snockered. (A slightly wobbly eye, but it's better than nothing.)

"Y'know,I'm pretty sure the bar's no fighting rules also cover no eating, too."

His hand is starting to go towards his holstered gun. His aim isn't worth crap at the moment, but it's the threat that's more important.

"The bar's rules didn't stop your Sam Carter from trying to drag me out of here at gunpoint, or you from making threats or so on, the last two times we met. You expect me to follow rules you don't?" Michael's close enough to grab. "As for 'eating', I'm not hungry.
I don't want you 'eaten'. Just gone."

Sheppard's noticed how close Michael is, and is more tensed to try and dodge than grab his gun-unfortunately, either option has the drawback of Michael probably being faster than he is.

"Then let me gt up and I'll save this for later."

When he's a good deal more sober and has a lot more distance between himself and Michael.

Oh, right. Save it for later, when Sheppard feels like it, or is ready to shoot Michael in the back.
Not bloody likely.
"You've already said you can't leave permanently." Voice cold, before a noise off to one side grabs his attention. His gaze flickers away, a quick glance thrown over his shoulder.

Sheppard knows an opportunity when he sees one, and he's not afraid to take it. Rather than risk a full on fight-one he's almost guaranteed to lose-Sheppard decides that escape is a far preferably option. As soon as Michael looks away, he hurrying off with surprising speed, given the fact that he's pretty well snockered.

Suzi is good at leaving notes, if bad at finding people in person.

So its another note:

Michael,
Gone to Whistler's world again, I'll see you soon!
Love,
Suzi

Michael finds the note and puts it in his pocket just before he's surprised by Sheppard. He'll pen a note back for her later, once things calm down.

"I haven't done that to a gun in years," Janet comments from nearby, eyeing the pieces. She's happy to find out that hasn't forgotten her training.

Michael smiles politely. Pushes out a chair for her to come sit closer, if she'd like. "Are you a police officer?"

Janet shakes her head, taking a seat. "I'm actually a doctor, I got my training in the air force." It seems like such a long time ago, now. "What do you do?"

"Military--a soldier and starship pilot, among other things. I'm...on leave, of sorts," he answers. "No good letting myself get rusty, though."

"There seem to be a lot of us military types around," she grins.

Speaking of practice, "You know, I used a shooting range here before. Have you run across it yet?"

"No, I haven't, Ms--?"

"Oh, so sorry. I'm Janet."

Sometimes she just gets so carried away she forgets introductions.

"Michael. Or, that's the name the humans I've met call me."

"That'll work for me," she smiles. "So Michael, where are you from?"

ooc: slowtime is fine, I just HAD to send Janet over :D

"It's called the Pegasus Galaxy.--You?"

Janet was not expecting that answer. Someone else from her universe? Or is it maybe a parallel one?

"Believe it or not, I've heard of it before," she pauses, deciding not to give him a complete answer. "I'm from the Milky Way galaxy."

"Have you?" He nods. "I'm from 2006, by Earth-calendar reckoning, if that helps."

So he knows about earth, Janet wonders if he knows anything about Atlantis.

"I'm from little before you, 2003." Pause. "I have some friends from the Pagasus Galaxy."

"Do you?" He's sure she doesn't mean the Wraith. "Would they be from your galaxy, too?"

ooc: *gentle poke*