milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Wraith. With alcohol, a gun he's taken apart to diagram and check over, and a Fiend on the seat next to him.
Yup, that's all you get.

Botherable.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only