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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'Pam?'

Jim grins, sharp like a knife.

'I like her,' because of course he does. 'Unless you mean Ginger, in which case I share your distaste. But with regard the matter at hand - the sentence for murder here isn't exactly harsh. And how exactly would you reduce them to red slush?'

"Staking, presumably," Harman says. "And who is Ginger?"

Is there another one?

'Mm. Well. Whether you could stake Eric is debatable.'

Jim wrinkles his nose, and makes a vague gesture with his hand.

'She's human. One of the ones that hang out with them, and get fed on, and have generally lost their minds to all the vampire blood they've drank.'

Beat.

'And she makes the worst sandwiches.'

Edited 2017-03-08 00:49 (UTC)

"That sounds awful," Harman says. "What's her name?"

'Ginger. I just said.'

Jim sounds distracted. He's remembering the sandwich, and trying not to gag.

(You don't understand, Pearse. You don't understand.)

"I took it for a description."

'Oh, yeah. No. That's her name.'

He pulls a face, and snaps back to attention. Some things don't bear dwelling on.

'Well, I can see it's all very frustrating for you, Father. You have my deepest sympathy.'

Which doesn't say a lot, given how capable he is of such an emotion.

"Very frustrating," Father Harman agrees.

Jim just watches him, vaguely amused.

Surely he doesn't have to point out the obvious solution to this?

"I have decided to use this place for research, and ignore the problematic aspects," Harman declares.

Jim watches him a bit more. And then raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes, the universal expression yeah, okay then.

'Very commendable, Father. The moral high ground, et cetera.'

The one that means he doesn't actually have to do anything.

'I'm sure God is very pleased.'

"The vampires in my world are my problem," Harman says. "Not these. These are somebody else's problem, and I do pray from the bottom of my heart that these people will kill them."

He frowns at that. Just a little, but completely genuine.

'Your solution is...to decide it's someone else's problem, and do nothing.'

Beat.

'I honestly can't decide if that's the most Catholic thing I've ever heard, or the least.'

Least. It's the least.

"This is Milliways," Harman says, shaking his head. "I'd waste all the potential if I neutralised just one of their vampires. Just one. It's not worth it."

He's not just Catholic, he's a Jesuit.

Jim thinks that considering the penalty for murder here seems to be virtually nothing, this is a bit of a cop-out. But fine, whatever. He drains the last of his vodka, and sets the glass down.

'Your choice, Father.'

"Yes," Harman says.

He smiles, and picks up the iPad to look at the screen again.

'Will you remain solid in your faith if they discover life on one of these new planets?'

"Of course," Harman says. "I could easily imagine that my own order might send a spaceship there before the UNO even finished discussing whether the aliens are real."

Jim's eyebrows jerk gently upwards.

'Obviously they could afford that, but you're so confident they have the knowledge?'

A group largely unencumbered by government intervention, then. Dangerous - to normal people - and extremely useful in certain circumstances.

"Of course we do," Harman says "Jesuits have always been fascinated by science. We run the Vatican observatory, for one thing."

'Running an observatory is not the same thing as sending a spaceship to an entirely new planet, darling. Not even close.'

An amusing idea, though.

'Any idiot with a PhD can learn to operate a telescope and crunch data.'

"Idiots with PhDs don't get far with us, darling," Harman answers. "You have done many things in your life, I'd guess, but never tried to become a Jesuit."

Jim snorts a laugh that manages to be both derisive, and delighted.

'Why on earth would I try to become a Jesuit? Priests never liked me.'

Which will surprise precisely no one, he's sure.

"Because you can, of course," Harman says, smiling.

'Of course I could.'

He could genuinely do anything.

'But I think you're crediting me far too much in the line of wanting to educate others, and having the personality that would ever allow it.'

He is not the man from the old books, as they've already established. No teacher he.