milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[oom: These are the sorts of adventures you can look forward to as the 2IC of a flying-spaceship-city in another galaxy.]

Lorne strides through the door into the Bar wearing a flightsuit, carrying a helmet, and looking like he’s got somewhere very important to be, and when he discovers he’s not there, he mutters, “Oh no. Not now, not fucking now,” and turns back to his door.

Which…isn’t there anymore.

His helmet gets thrown, rather violently, to the ground, and he slams his hand against the wall where his door should be. “Don’t goddamn do this to me now!”

The string of curses he lets fly is getting progressively more colorful as he goes.

Tiny-and-very-pissed-off!tag: Evan Lorne

[ooc: Open 'til it scrolls off. Warnings for likely pissiness of pup. It's likely he'll continue swearing for quite some time.]

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"Bad day at the office?" His arm goes around Lorne's waist.

Lorne snorts. "You could say that. And now my fucking door's gone, and I do not have time for this today."

"Well," Jack says, holding him a little closer, "technically you've got all the time you want.

"Tell me what's happened."

Lorne finishes the rest of his beer before he answers. "We lost the city."

"Oh, my god," Jack whispers and puts his beer down to hold Lorne tight. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Was it an air raid?"

Lorne huffs out a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, kind of." He wraps his arms around Jack.

"Nobody took it," he murmurs. "We lost it. As in, it's gone. As in, we don't fucking know where it is. As in, it's not where it was, and it's not where it should be."

Jack frowns. "How can an entire city disappear?"

"It's a spaceship," Lorne says. "We needed to move it to another planet, and it got lost somewhere along the way."

"So you've lost communication with it," Jack says, still frowning. "Not so much that the entire city has--" He does a "poofle" kind of gesture. "Disappeared."

"Well...no it didn't just poof out of existence," Lorne says, rolling his eyes a little.

"Well, sweetheart, when you say 'lost' it's hard to know exactly what you meant. It's not like it was bombed away like Guernica."

Lorne sighs and pulls away. "Can we grab a booth, maybe? Get another drink?"

Jack rubs his back. "Yeah. Of course. Go have a seat and I'll get refills. Do you want supper, too?"

"Sure," Lorne says, scanning the room for an empty booth. "Whatever you'd like is fine."

"Okay," Jack says and starts to go, then pulls Lorne back and kisses him.

Lorne hesitates for a moment, mostly out of surprise, then kisses him back.

Jack pulls back and smiles a little. "That's better."

He goes to the bar to get them some food.

Lorne smiles a bit as he watches Jack go and finds them a booth, sliding into it.

Jack returns with plates of Real Manly Food: meat loaf and mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables, and more beer.

"How does this look?" he says as he puts the plate in front of Lorne.

"It's good," Lorne says, nodding. He picks up his fork, but doesn't eat just yet. "It looks good," he says again.

"Good," Jack says as he slides into the other side of the booth. He drinks some beer, watching Lorne with a slight frown.

Lorne takes a bite of the meatloaf and chews it absently. He sets his fork down and closes his eyes and scrubs his hands over his face with a frustrated groan.

"Sweetheart, you'll just have to make the best of it until the bar decides to let you out again," Jack says, placid.

He is selfishly glad Lorne will be around a while, actually.

"I know, dammit," Lorne snaps. "But I can't fucking do anything from here.

"Look, everyone I care about is in that city!"

Which is, of course, an exaggeration, though not exactly a gross exaggeration.

Jack looks at him and has a drink.