milliways_bar | (no subject)

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*If you haven't seen Andrew Wells in a while, it's probably because ... actually, who knows why that is? He's been around. Really he has. Just, you know, in a kind of unobtrusive way.*

*Anyway, he's getting an actual entrance post tonight.*

*Enter one geekboy, heading down the stairs.*

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*There's a Meg already there, coffee cup clenched tightly in her hand.

She looks - tired, mostly. Other things too, of course, but tired being the most visible.*

Hey.

*He sits down next to her.*

'S wrong?

*Meg attempts to come up with a succinct answer to this, and fails, rather miserably.

So instead, she just rests her head on his shoulder, and says,* It's been a long . . . . past long time.

*He puts an arm around her shoulders and gives her a small but heartfelt half-hug.*

You wanna tell me about any of it?

- I do, *Meg says, her voice small.*

But I dunno - how, I guess. What to start on.

-- well, you didn't tell me much about what happened on Antar, just that it worked and everybody's fine...

- oh yeah.

*She takes a breath.*

Er. There was a battle, and we broke out some prisoners, and killed the guards, and I shot someone - did I tell you that, I shot someone? - and, oh, by the way, we're lord and lady of a province in Antar, and I can't remember the name of it - does that make me irresponsible, I can't remember the name of my own province? - you'd better ask Max, he'll know it -

*The words are all mixed together, straight from the back of her brain, without being sorted first.*

*Andrew's brain does a little rapid filing before he responds.*

Max or Michael, yeah.

*A short silence.*

Shot and killed, or just shot?

- both, *says Meg, and falls silent.*

*His hand finds hers, and his voice is low and gentle and level.*

How're you doing with that?

- better'n maybe I should, *Meg says, and her face is hidden from view in his shoulder, but her voice is troubled.*

Does that make me awful?

*A pause.*

I don't know if I'm the best person to answer that.

'M kind of biased.

I know.

*Meg's eyes are closed.*

But what you think matters more'n what most people would, anyways.

--I don't mean 'cause I love you.

I mean 'cause I work every day with people who kill. I mean, kill demons and vampires, not humans, but ...

Was he trying to kill you? Or the others?

Yes.

Was his job. We were breaking into a prison.

He died better'n some of the others did.

*She shrugs, a very little.*

I probably killed other people later, too, but that's the one I remember.

We were in a war. And that's what happens.

Yeah.

*His hand tightens on hers.*

Is what I'm saying. And you're --

I don't know how to say this.

*She grips his hand back, equally tightly.*

Say it anyways?

You're not --

pretending it doesn't matter. To yourself. You're not pretending like you didn't really hurt anybody, or like it doesn't matter if you did.

*He isn't quite looking at her.*

- Non, *Meg says, at last, and puts her other hand on top of his.*

I know it matters.

So it's not --

*He does meet her eyes, now.*

If you're going to fight for what's right. Sometimes you have to kill.

Slayers don't kill humans, 'cause it's part of the code.

But Watchers do, sometimes. When it's necessary. When it's the only way.

It's ... evil is killing for fun, or just because you can, or ... or killing and not caring.

*Meg nods, and musters up a ghost of a smile.*

Didn't think I was evil. Not that dramatic.

Just - hard. Which isn't a bad thing, really, comes in useful more often than it doesn't, but - unnerving, sometimes.

*Andrew nods.*

Yeah.

The hard part, with that, is - letting yourself break, *Meg adds, her voice a small, tired thread.*

'cause it's so much easier not to.

*He's silent for a moment, then:*

You don't break if you can bend.

*Meg cracks a bit of a smile at that.*

Well.

Ballerina, flexible . . .

*Andrew declines to leer.*

...so what was this about you owning a province now?

- we own a province, *Meg corrects him.* Don't put it all on me.

... we as in ...

*His eyes widen.*

you and me?

*Meg can't help but giggle at that.*

Yes, you and me - you were ennobled in absentia, so you'll have to get used to it -

*He stares at her for a long moment, then very slowly headdesks.*

*Muffled:* This is just one more thing I can never tell any of the normal people back home, isn't it.

At least you're not on the wrong side of the class wars, now, *Meg points out, gloomily.*

- I mean, you are, but as far as I know you were never on the right side, really, so it doesn't matter much.

We don't have class wars in America.

*He grins suddenly.*

Except insofar as geeks are a class everybody looks down on, and could there be anything geekier than claiming to be the lord of a small province on another planet?

. . . claiming to be the lord of a small province on another planet while wearing a superhero costume and playing with little plastic toys? *Meg offers.*

...

*Andrew leans over and kisses her on the nose.*

You win.

*Meg grins, and puts her arms around his neck.*

I've made great strides in study of geekiness in the past year or so.

Now if only I could teach you about D&D.

Surprise, surprise. Something he's probably not expecting to see. There's a blonde Slayer in the bar. Waving at him, even.

"Hey, Andrew. How's it going?"

*He blinks at her, and breaks into a grin.* Buffy! Hey!

-- When are you here from?

She sips her soda and raises her eyebrows.

"I don't know? Sometime without calendars."

*He blinks at that, and looks a little wary.*

Uh, before or after January of 2003?

"Well, I'm the same Buffy that was here last time... Unless there was a different me here since then... so I'm from after 2003."

Explanations can get confusing in Milliways.

Ah, okay. Still ahead of me then.

-- I'm here just getting back from LA, with Dana. Unplanned side trip on the way.

"Ah. Not too far then."

-- so what do you mean, sometime without calendars?

Or is this stuff about the future and I shouldn't ask?

She shrugs.

"I haven't been home in... my time, well over a year."

... future stuff, then. Okay, I'm not gonna ask, I'll find out when I get there.

[ooc: must sleep. slowtime?]

"Suit yourself. Doubt it would change anything."

She asks the bar for fries.

"So other than Dana, what's up with you?"

[ooc: Sure. Night.]

Well, uh -- I'm gonna be heading back home soon, and working on that portal-to-Milliways thing -- I haven't been able to get here on my own yet.

"Portal to.... oh yeah. No big. I'm sure the portal will show up somehow."

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