milliways_bar | (no subject)

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connor macleod

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Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.

He's in the bar.

You'll never guess what he's drinking.

Go on... guess.

Bet you got it wrong.

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Malcolm sits down nearby, a drink in his hand. He's had a long day of tending to sick people.

He lifts his hand to take a drink. That would be his *only* hand, because his other hand is fading in and out of view.

Malcolm lifts the glass to Connor. "So. How is *your* week going?"

Connor raises an eyebrow and points to the strangely fading hand. "Obviously better than yours."

"Experiment I was doing with Ray. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Malcolm could say more, but figures that's probably about as much as Connor would want to know.

Can Connor sense scotch at a distance? If so, he might be able to tell that Malcolm isn't drinking Glenmorangie this time.

Possibly. . . . Laphroaig?

Nah - his nose isn't quite that good.

"Ray?"

As in, Ray who?

"Ray Stanz. He's an expert on ghosts. So I thought I'd ask him some questions. See if there might be some interesting things I could find out about myself."

"Somehow that ended up with me trying to make my hand go through a table."

Malcolm looks at Connor for a moment.

"Not *that* way. Like a--. Like a ghost." Malcolm tries to pantomime it. Then stops.

Somehow trying to explain it to Connor is making the idea seem even more stupid than it already did.

He nods. "Putting your hand through a table really does sound like a bad plan."

Thoughts of 'aren't you a doctor?' go through his head too, but he does have a bit of manners and doesn't say that.

"Well, you know. If I'm dead, I might as well try to make what I can out of it."

"You're not--?" Malcolm stops.

And ponders that there's really no tactful way to ask someone if they're dead or not.

So, to hell with it: "You're not dead? Are you?"

He grins as he sips his drink.

"Several times over, actually."

Let that sink in...

"Several times?"

Malcolm thinks about that. Then smiles.

"Are you getting any better at it?"

He shrugs.

"Still hurts like the devil each time, so, I guess not."

Hmm. Yes. Malcolm knows something about that.

He decides it might be best to focus on the scotch and let everything else take care of itself.

[ooc: and mun is running off... sleep time... but this looks like a nice little wrap-up, so cool]

Scotch-focus it is, then.

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