milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Jim has been rather enjoying spending weeks being moody and depressed in his suite, mainly because Sherlock's up there to make sure he's not actually all that moody and depressed. Bloody boyfriends, and their way of making life better. Jim would grump about that if he weren't pleased by it.

He's only in the bar now because his favourite distraction is asleep and anyway, they need food. Jim puts in a large order and, on a whim, asks for a current newspaper from their world. Bar provides an iPad with various headlines, and he scrolls through until he hits upon the news that NASA has discovered a solar system where life might have evolved.

He forgets about the food, and pretty much everything else for a while. Eventually he wanders over to the Window, still reading, and then just sits looking out at the explosions.

(The ice cream he bought will be melting all over the Bar at some point, so if anyone wants free food he's probably not going to object, or even notice.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jim ignores him for a while. But the shape of him on the edge of his peripheral vision is distracting, so he eventually looks up.

'Hello.'

[OOC: Heh, cool. :D]

"Exoplanets," the man says. "That's probably where the history of your world turns into science fiction."

The corner of Jim's mouth turns up.

'Probably.'

He's fine with that. It'll make it more interesting.

'Only it won't be fictional anymore, so they'll have to come up with a new name for the genre.'

"Not in the worlds where it still is," the priest says.

'Oh, who cares about them.'

They can write stories about When Earth became Interesting, and maybe they'll even be right. That's not what's preoccupying Jim. And it can wait anyway; his smile is taking on a sharp edge as he looks the man over, and he tilts his head towards a chair.

'Feel free to sit, Father.'

The priest sits.

"What do you care about?"

'Wow. Straight into the juicy stuff. You must be a beast in Confession.'

Jim rolls his head lazily on the back of his chair, and looks at him properly.

'You might want to do introductions first.'

"Father Pearse Harman," the priest says. "Society of Jesus."

'Oooh, a Jesuit.'

Perhaps it's Christmas! Jim likes priests. In certain ways.

'Jim Moriarty. Not of any society - but I am a lapsed Catholic so please, do feel free to try and reform me.'

"I don't usually do that," Father Harman says, smiling. "Treasuring differences is often more interesting than reforming a person to confirm with my ideas."

'Treasuring differences.'

That's hilarious. He smiles like a shark, then shrugs.

'Well, what can I do for you? You want to know what I care about? But that's not going to sustain a conversation for long, so what else would you like to talk about?'

"It would be a starting point," Harman says.

'But you've given me no reason to tell you. Why would I hand that information out?'

That's a weapon in the wrong hands.

'What do you care about?'

"The safety of my world," Father Harman says, immediately.

'Oh God.'

Another one? Ugh. Jim pulls a face, and looks around to find a rat so he can get some alcohol in him.

"Why is that so bad?"

'It's predictable.'

Everyone here seems to be trying to save their world in one way or another, and have very Strong Feelings about it. Dull dull dull. Worlds cannot be saved.

And a very broad think to care about, which probably means a psychiatrist would have a field day with you.'

"No, it's actually very specific," the priest says. "We have vampires."

'So?'

His point stands. Worlds cannot be saved, it doesn't matter what lives on them at any particular time.

'I doubt you're the sole person responsible for holding back the tides of darkness. Though if the entire Catholic Church has become some sort of righteous army, defending against hordes of rising undead, you'll capture my interest.'

"No, it is a secretive joint-venture between the Vatican and the British Government," Harman says, deadpan.

As if that was the most normal thing to be part of. After all, this is Milliways.

Jim nods. That makes total sense to him.

'You don't know a man named Mycroft Holmes, do you?'

This would be exactly his bag.

"Not in my actual world," Father Harman says.

'...ahhh, another one with Knowledge.'

Jim widens his eyes theatrically, and grins.

'Well, that rather takes the fun out of this conversation from my point of view.'

"Not exactly," Harman says. "Shouldn't you all be from the late 19th century?"

'Originally, yes. So I'm told.'

He looks entirely unconcerned.

'But that's nothing to do with me.'