milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It would appear Sawyer got restless during one of Claire's outings.

He's going to be in so much trouble.

Anyway, here he is in a booth, having managed to make his way down the stairs without falling. He's dressed only in a pair of jeans and wrapped in a couple of blankets that occasionally shift so that you can see the green scaly skin that has completely taken over his right side. His hand on that side is still missing, as are a couple of toes now.

A plate of dry toast sits nearby. He attempted to eat, but that just wasn't happening.

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She chuckles. "I don't think Jag would appreciate that very much."

"Me or the crumbs?"

"Either. It's his bed too."

A snort. "I reckon he would get a little touchy about it, then."

"Still, it'd be funny..."

"I don't think it would be."

"Fine." He reaches up with his one remaining hand to readjust the blankets on his shoulders before taking another -- small -- bite of his toast.

"Besides shacking up with your boyfriend, what's new with you?"

Jaina's eyes narrow. He took that small bite on purpose.

She shrugs. "Val and I are organizing a sabacc night. And I pulled a successful prank on Janson yesterday."

"Prank?" That sounds promising. "What'd you do?"

"Tricked him into believing that there was a party in some suite last night. Inyri and I set up a couple of buckets of paint by the door of the room." She laughs, smiling proudly. "He was covered with it. Hobbie too."

He laughs as well... and adds, "You know if you did something like that to me, there'd be retribution, right?"

"I know. Sithspit, I wouldn't be surprised if Janson goes for revenge." She grins. "But that would mean admitting he was outwitted by a 'four-year=old'."

"A who-what-old?"

She chuckles. "I'm four in his time. He claims I'm four here."

"You better be older than four... or I'm a bad, bad man."

"Kriff, I'm not four!"

"I didn't say you were! Lay off the sick man, would you?"

"The sick man should be upstairs resting."

"He will be just as soon as he's done eating. The sick man wants to know when the four-year-old became his mom."

She glares. "Then maybe he should stop calling the twenty-two-year-old a four-year-old and at his toast."

"I'm working on it. See?" He takes another small bite. "Mmmm, tasty."

Jaina nods. "Now try another bite."

"Patience, princess. Give that last one time to work its way down."

"Sawyer..."

He grumbles and takes another bite. "I don't come boss you around when you're sick..."

About that time (*coughmillitimesayswhatcough*), a waitrat appears with a bowl of chicken noodle soup. Sawyer grins at Jaina.

Jaina frowns at the bowl of soup, glaring at Sawyer's smile. "Figures. How many hours is it going to take for you to eat that?"