Felix Gaeta (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mr_gaeta) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
milliways_bar2010-03-11 09:05 pm
mr_gaeta) wrote in milliways_bar2010-03-11 09:05 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Gaeta wasn't expecting to find a door this soon. Part of him, despite knowing (and knowing of) several people from Galactica who'd successfully reached Milliways, may have even expected that he wouldn't find a door at all after leaving Colonial One.
That could account for a lot: the way the door rocks backward with the full weight of Gaeta's shoulder behind it, the galley tray in his hand, the more casual civilian clothes (gone is the suit; gone, too, are the layers of someone living in a cold climate), the mildly dumbfounded expression as he stares around the room. After a moment, he heaves a sigh and makes for the nearest open seat -- in this case, one at the bar. His tray drops onto the bartop with an unceremonious clatter.
"Can I please at least finish my frakking dinner first?" he asks a beat later, too tired for the curse to carry any real heat. He gets no reply except a second napkin with a long string of zzzzzzzs scrawled across it, and so, with a quiet exhalation of, "Fine," he gets up and makes his way around the bar.
Eventually:
HAPPY HOUR
Hot Lunch
Coffee 43
After Dinner Mint
EXHIBIT A: A meal from Galactica's galley.
|
|
|
▼
(Here sits his unfinished dinner beneath the chalkboard.)
Offer suggestions to make it edible & drink half price.
It looks, for the record, like globs of something that might be mashed potato substitute, a bowl of wilted and depressed-looking greens, and a sickly-colored soup.
[tinytag: trudy chacon]
[OOC: ffffff. My body does not want to respond to pithy back room threats, alas; I am crashing and crashing hard. Mea culpa for bailing an hour early -- however, new tags are very much welcomed, and all slowtimes will be picked up!]
That could account for a lot: the way the door rocks backward with the full weight of Gaeta's shoulder behind it, the galley tray in his hand, the more casual civilian clothes (gone is the suit; gone, too, are the layers of someone living in a cold climate), the mildly dumbfounded expression as he stares around the room. After a moment, he heaves a sigh and makes for the nearest open seat -- in this case, one at the bar. His tray drops onto the bartop with an unceremonious clatter.
"Can I please at least finish my frakking dinner first?" he asks a beat later, too tired for the curse to carry any real heat. He gets no reply except a second napkin with a long string of zzzzzzzs scrawled across it, and so, with a quiet exhalation of, "Fine," he gets up and makes his way around the bar.
Eventually:
Hot Lunch
Coffee 43
After Dinner Mint
EXHIBIT A: A meal from Galactica's galley.
|
|
|
▼
(Here sits his unfinished dinner beneath the chalkboard.)
Offer suggestions to make it edible & drink half price.
It looks, for the record, like globs of something that might be mashed potato substitute, a bowl of wilted and depressed-looking greens, and a sickly-colored soup.
[tinytag: trudy chacon]
[OOC: ffffff. My body does not want to respond to pithy back room threats, alas; I am crashing and crashing hard. Mea culpa for bailing an hour early -- however, new tags are very much welcomed, and all slowtimes will be picked up!]
no subject
(And if not this Sharon, he thinks, he could have conceivably said it to Boomer.)
no subject
Admittedly, having Helo was probably something of a buffer, in any case.
no subject
It's a thoroughly uncharitable thought, and one he squashes the instant he's aware of thinking it.
Still, there's a touch of...something resigned, when he says, "Good. I'm glad to hear it."
no subject
"Thanks for the coffee."
It's also slightly resigned.
no subject
Beat.
"That...I'm on shift here, I guess," he adds, and this time it's more wryly amused than anything.
no subject
"I have to see if this place is gonna let me leave, anyway."
Being stuck in a flight suit any longer than necessary is worth about one cup of coffee, and that's it.
no subject
And then he hesitates, fractionally.
"And, uh, good luck with everything else too, sir."