milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Jordan is not rested. Yesterday, she found out she was supposed to be dead, that her dream vacation was a death sentence. Added to the strange grandeur of Milliways, and very intriguiging subliminal things she saw in that video, she is pretty strung out. She tries Lincoln's door, but he's not in. She goes downstairs and tries to request toast and cottage cheese. The bar, as ever, is accomodating. At least something seems certain, though she is wary to trust it just yet.

Mmm, breakfast.

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!!!

That's pretty much what's on Lincoln's face as Jordan lands on him. He reels back into his seat and, of their own accord, his arms wrap around her waist to stabilize her.

He peers around her shoulder at Wash, eyes approximately the size of motorcycle tires. He doesn't even have the presence of mind to point out she's not usually like this. (Then again, is he complaining? Not at the moment, anyway.)

And Wash is Not Smirking At All. Nope.

"So, Jordan!" he continues brightly, as if this is nothing out of the ordinary (which it isn't) and Lincoln doesn't have the 'ohgodhelpme' look of a virginal thirteen-year-old on his first date (which he...okay, that's still up for debate). "How long've you two known each other?"

"Three years," she says with a grin, and allows herself a luxury she never has been allowed: she ruffles his hair. "Lincoln thinks he's so smart, but he was so lost when they found him. I look after him. It's important to have someone who does that for you."

Lincoln looks like he's about to die. Whether from embarrassment or ecstasy, it's your call. "She thinks that just because I let her beat me in the ring sometimes, she can tell me what's what."

He shakes his head, trying to correct her mussing it up. Well, if she's going to take liberties, so will he. Lincoln pokes her in the side.

Jordan squeaks! That felt...funny. It makes her want to bubble and giggle and she does. She swats Lincoln.

"Your friend is nicer than you. He doesn't pick on girls." She clears her throat and speaks directly to Wash, "I told you, he thinks he's smart. He wouldn't pick on a girl who can kick his butt if he was so smart."

Lincoln feigns indignation. "I'm smart enough not to let people know I'm ticklish."

Merciless assault. Oh yes, Lincoln is a ruthless tickler. You learn something new every day.

Jordan shrieks and squirms on Lincoln's lap, kicking. Someone, probably not her, is going to get hurt at this rate.

"And hey, it was picking on a girl who can kick my butt that got me married," Wash points out, still smirking.

They're so adorable. Really. Even if they're disturbingly clueless.

Lincoln frowns. "Married? What's--ow!"

Oops. Looks like someone got ribbed by a thrashing limb. Not that it hurt. "Right! That's it! That's the last time I soften up the lunch lady before you want bacon!"

Triumphant, Jordan elbows him again. "Liar!" She pleads with Wash to believe her. "Do I look like the serial bacon eater here?"

Wash holds up both hands. "Of course not. I would never accuse somebody I met five minutes ago of hoarding pig products."

Beat.

"Well, okay, I would, but not you."

"Pig? What's a pig?"

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