milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Boredom is a dangerous thing.

It can result in things like Air Force majors playing paper football with themselves, flicking the tiny, paper triangles between salt and pepper shakers.

Sometimes his aim goes wide. This could result in random bar patrons finding themselves in the line of fire.

Sorry?

Tag of Smallness: Evan Lorne

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Parker sees the incoming paper triangle in enough time to catch it between two clapped hands.

She aims a half grin in the direction of the 'kicker.'

"Touchdown?"

"I believe that counts as a fumble," Lorne says, waving his hand vaguely. The rules of paper football are nebulous and prone to change.

The grin becomes full-fledged.

"Not on my end."

It was a damn good catch for an unprepared wide receiver.

Parker offers the paper triangle back to him.

"Out-of-bounds is a football term, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Lorne says, taking the triangle from her. "I suppose it could have been an interception, too."

"Or that," Parker agrees.

"So. Who's winning?"

"Uh," Lorne glances around the area where several stray 'footballs' litter the floor. "The other guy."

Parker follows his gaze and the corner of her mouth quirks in amusement.

"Man. Your coach is going to be pissed off."

Parker, granted, has never been on a football team. But she's seen and heard coaches do enough screaming from the sidelines.

"Opposing team this far ahead? Shows a serious lack of dedication, hard work, school pride, and American spirit."

Or so she's heard.

Lorne shrugs, completely unconcerned with the potential rage of his hypothetical coach. "I was always more of a soccer man, myself."

"And my last team sport was softball in fifth grade."

"I sucked," Parker adds after a moment.

The whole connect-the-bat-with-the-ball thing had been her undoing. She's better at non-competitive athletics, at the end of the day.

"Nobody's perfect," Lorne offers, graciously. "I suppose neither of us is destined for stardom on the paper football circuit."

"So sad." Parker sighs, shaking her head.

"There goes our big chance to earn billions endorsing Mead and Post-It."

She grins.

"I'm Parker, by the way."

"I think I can live with that disappointment.

"Lorne," he says, offering his hand to shake.

"Nice to meet you."

Parker shakes his hand.

"Throw Hail Mary passes here often?"

"You too," Lorne says, smiling. "I've been coming here since...February, I think," he adds. "You?"

"I came in for the first time in April, a year ago."

"I haven't been here for a year, though. I went abroad for my sophomore year of college, but my door apparently didn't make the trip."

Parker grins and shrugs.

"I blame customs."

Lorne laughs. "Somehow, I think Milliways could get around customs if it really wanted to."

"True. Maybe it just knew I had enough going on."

Whatever 'it' is. Milliways. The Universe.

"It's good to be back, though. I missed the place. I'm going to have a lot of catching up to do."

She sounds like she's looking forward to it.

Lorne nods. "Can't imagine being gone that long. I'd have a lot of catching up to do too."

"It'll get done," Parker says, assuredly.

"And the place hasn't blown up since I've been gone. That's a good start."

Given that it's the End of the Universe and all.

Lorne's concern would be more with being gone that long than with the catching up.

"Let's hope it stays in one piece at least a little longer."

"Seriously."

"There's no place like Milliways to hang out when you need a break from homework."

"Or paperwork," Lorne agrees. "Or mess food. Or a CO with a death wish."

"You have a CO with a death wish?"

That doesn't sound good.

Lorne shrugs. "It's mostly an inside joke." Mostly. "He's kind of a trouble magnet."

"Are we talking glaring superiors trouble, or heat-seeking missile trouble?"

Trouble comes in degrees, after all.

"Yep," Lorne says, grinning.

Parker laughs.

"Bombs and court marshals."

She offers a sympathetic salute.

"Have you considered asking for hazardous duty pay, soldier?"

"Gettin' that already," Lorne says with a smile. "And it's airman, not soldier."

"Airman," Parker corrects herself.

"Pilot?"

Lorne shrugs. "Sort of, yeah."

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