milliways_bar | (no subject)

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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.)

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"Yeah!" Vyvyan says.

"Fancy a drink?"

'Yes, all right.'

Presumably that means Vyvyan's buying? That'll be a first.

'Vodka and line, thanks.'

Vyvyan orders that, and a baby sham. It takes him a long time to scrape together the change.

"What you reading?"

'Mm?'

He looks up from the iPad, having gone back to the article.

'NASA has discovered planets that could support life of some sort. It was announced today.'

"What, like this one?"

'Not like Millliways, no. Like Earth, or something broadly similar to it.'

The question, obviously, is how to get to them. How to design craft and machines that can get there and collect data, discover what the places are really like, see if there actually might be something there already. A human landing likely wouldn't have happened in his lifetime anyway...but still. It makes him think, just a bit.

"Bet there's tons of them." Vyvyan says. "With all the people who come here."

'...no, it's not the same thing at all.'

Though, who's to say? The universe is so vast, they don't know. But the probability of that many near-identical Earths in one universe is unlikely.

"Why don't you go live with Wartface?"

'Would you go and live with Wartface?'

He blinks a bit at the non-sequitur.

'What does where I live have to do with anything?'

"If you wanted to go experience a weird Earth."

'I've been to his world a couple of times.'

He shrugs. He's not about to explain to Vyvyan, of all people, that it's nothing to do with wanting to go and experience 'a weird Earth'.

'And I've been to other versions of Earth from here. I'm sure I'll go to others.'

"You wanna come see mine?" Vyvyan asks.

He just wants to see Jim's face when he goes into the squat.

'Not particularly.'

He's seen the Young Ones. He has no desire to see that mess up close. And considering how Vyvyan smells...just no.

'And not without wearing a biohazard suit.'

"You'd probably be better in thermals. The pub we're squatting in hasn't any electricity or plumbing at the moment."

'...yeah, not selling me on it.'

Jesus, he can't imagine anything more disgusting.

'You've got a job now, why don't you either move out, or get the place hooked up?'

"I've nearly saved up." Vyvyan says.

Jim looks at him. And shrugs.

He's not about to say well done. He's not the encouraging sort.

"It's London, after all."

'If you think it's expensive in the 80s, you'd cry to see it now.'

He has no sympathy. He was earning an adult's wage when he started at sixteen, and was a millionaire the year after. Other people's money concerns are their problem.

"Doubt it. I don't cry, I'm not a girl." Vyvyan says.

He passes Jim his drink, then downs his own in one go.

'...right.'

Amusing. But entirely predictable. Jim looks at his drink, unsure if he wants to touch it now Vyvyan's been near it.

'Remember you said that, the first time a girl makes you cry.'

"Why, do you cry?"

'No. But I'm not a usual example of things.'

He has cried in his life. Not nearly as much as he should have, perhaps.

'I see men cry a lot, though. You shouldn't assume it's only a female thing.'

Admittedly, it's often been him making them cry, and not necessarily for emotional purposes. But explaining that would only muddy the waters.

Vyvyan snorts.

"Not real men. Wimp men, like Rick."