Milliways, third strike

[nomorekaraoke]

Friday night. Thank goodness it is Friday night and Lorne's got nowhere to be but his dreary little office, and no one to chat up. He's all dressed up and got nowhere to go.

Nowhere but Milliways, and there's nowhere he'd rather be. He walks in like he always does (or, well, almost always), with a bounce in his step and an appreciative glance at everyone around. It's good to be here, among friends. And dear lordy, all the beautiful people, let's not forget about those.

"Bar, darling, fix me up with something good. I'm thinking hard liquor tonight, but something sweet?" Ta dah, Melon Bomb. "Thanks a bunch, love."

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[nomorekaraoke]

"I..." Grinding his cigarette butt into the ash tray Bar so kindly supplies for him, he clears his throat quietly. Oh, so quietly.

"I met Illyria here. I assumed they were okay."

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew shakes his head. "Different timeline. Wesley's here from her world too, but ... he didn't make it that night either."

[nomorekaraoke]

Cordy dead. Fred dead. Dead Fred. Wesley, dead. Everyone dies, unless they're dead already. It's either that, or attempted suicide. Silently, surreptitiously, Bar conjures up a tumbler of Scotch. Two fingers. Complimentary pink umbrella.

"...You know me too well, darling."

Sipping his drink, Lorne hides away behind his wall of numb nothingness. "I don't know what to say."

[stilljustandrew]

He studies the green face, the averted red eyes.

"You and Wesley were close?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"I'd like to think we all were." Lifting the tumbler, balancing it neatly from the tips of his long fingers - funny, how his hands are still steady. Maybe it makes sense, the way his heart's stopped beating.

"But that was a long time ago." He tips his head back, downing the Scotch. If his eyes look watery, he can always blame the liquid fire burning right through him.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew's voice is barely audible, and sounds shaken.

"What happened?"

[nomorekaraoke]

He shakes his head; it's too much. It is too much, and if he stops to think about it, he won't be able to breathe anymore, and he can't have that. Wouldn't that be rich, him, having a fit in the middle of the bar. Him? The guy who's never at a loss for words, the guy who's never shook up, who always has a smile at the ready for anyone who needs it and everyone else too.


"I can't talk about it." He shakes his head; if he wasn't rooted to the spot, he'd be off the stool and running already.

[stilljustandrew]

"Sorry," he says, only slightly louder than a whisper. "I'm sorry."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Wolfram & Hart happened. The Powers that Be started screwing us over, and then people started going evil, or trying to off themselves between apocalypses. Then Wolfram & Hart happened again, and then people started dying."

He isn't sure why he's telling Andrew this, why he's telling him anything that matters. "And I didn't see it coming."

But that's a lie too.

[stilljustandrew]

Well, he's finding out things now, that's for certain.

Quietly: "Didn't see which coming?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"All of it." But he did see it coming, and he saw all of it... It's just that W&H tentacle raped his brain and took it all before he had a chance to tell anyone else. And from that point on, he never saw a Big Bad Rising again. Not until...

"Not before it was too late. Not before the sister I never had spewed blood all over her lover man's face."

He stands up, barely aware of it himself. "I should go."

[stilljustandrew]

"Wait," he says, not entirely sure why, turning on his barstool to face Lorne directly.

[nomorekaraoke]

"For what? Redemption?"

[stilljustandrew]

"...No."


He can’t read Lorne's tone at all, doesn't know whether that's sarcastm or just bitterness, but there's only one way to answer that question.

"Redemption isn't something you just wait for."

[nomorekaraoke]

"I'm not up to philosophy, darling, if there isn't anything else you want me to tell you..."

He will not have a fit in the middle of the bar, he will not have any sort of fit in the middle of the bar, he will not make a fool of himself.

[stilljustandrew]

There's a lot he wants Lorne to tell him, but he's pretty sure he's not going to get those.

Andrew shakes his head, and makes a palm-out gesture that says go ahead.

[nomorekaraoke]

Having permission - which is rich in and of itself, him asking for permission to leave - Lorne gathers his coat and goes back from whence he came.

He's got a liquor cabinet at home just waiting to be emptied.