milliways_bar | (no subject)

[OOM: time, time, time / make time, give time, take time out / win time, cost time, the time of your life / spend time, sell time, the good times and the bad / kill time, zero time, all the time in the world / time watch, time travel, time to begin / time table, time square, can i fit you in? / time frame, time to go, time that you grew up / but tell me...how do you feel?

John Crichton, astronaut, stumbled in through the door, managing to catch himself on the edge of a table. He barely registers Milliways before he's whirling around to go back out the door...

...instead he hit a wall. "Shit! Frelling don't do this to me!"

Ah yes, the dulcet tones of Mr. Crichton's cursing! How the Bar must have missed that.

He placed a palm against the wood, sighing. She was out there, Aeryn was out there, and he was dead and all of this stuff was happening without him and he didn't have time for this.

(He has all the time in the world, here).

John leaned against the wall and sighed. Damn.

[OPEN FOREVER OMG, TAAAG MEEEE. OPEN TIL THE 28TH. YES. THAT LONG]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

-- The other you, you mean.

*There's sadness, but no surprise.*

"Yeah. Radiation poisoning. You knew, yeah?" John rubbed at his eyes.

*Very quietly:* Yeah.

*He remembers, long ago, running into Aeryn after this happened.*

He felt like part of him was missing.

"Oh well." He said outloud. "It's not me, eh?"

*("How is he?" "Still tied.")*

*Andrew is not fooled.*

Hey. Maybe ... maybe come away from the lack of door for a while, okay?

John's pressed against the wall like it's a lifeline. Walking away right now might hurt.

But it's Andrew, and so he nodded, taking staggering steps until all that touched was a fingertip...and then not even that. "'Kay."

*He quells the impulse to take Crichton's arm to support him, and instead gestures with his head toward a nearby table.*

Want a drink? Or, uh -- what time is it for you?

"Time to drink." John followed him to the table. He sighed. "'ccording the the internal clock, s'bout noon on Moya."

*He slouches into the chair opposite Crichton -- the one facing the door. Or, in Crichton's case, where the door isn't.*

What're you having? *he asks, as a waitrat scampers up to them.*

"Surprise me, Lassie." John grinned at the rat. "Somethin' really good and alcoholic."

On my tab.

And can you bring me one of the same?

"Thanks." John sighed, rubbing his eyes. "How've you been?"

Uh, mostly pretty good.

*Pause.*

I ... can't really remember, did you know Moiraine Sedai?

"I don't think so." John shook his head, looking over at Andrew.

Oh. *He looks a little distant.* Then I guess it wouldn't mean much to you that she had to go.

"Well, regardless, I'm sorry buddy." John paused. "Also...really sorry I just up and left. I just...got the feeling."

No, I know, it happens. And I probably wasn't around at the time.

John nodded, slowly, thanking the rat for the alcohol as it's dropped off. "Missed you, Lassie."

The rat glared. He's not Lassie (none of them are).