Lorne (
nomorekaraoke) wrote2009-07-19 11:14 pm
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At Milliways, recovering
A new day, a new shot at life, another day of taking it easy and letting himself heal, of taking 'proper' care of himself. Doctor's orders include: No excessive drinking. Excessive sugar intake. Plenty of rest.
So, that's what Lorne's been keeping busy with. It beats thinking about Emma-Beth back home sweet Earth. So, nursing a big cup of thai chicken soup (sweet and savory), Lorne is carefully readjusting to life without his arm caught in a metaphorical noose.
So, that's what Lorne's been keeping busy with. It beats thinking about Emma-Beth back home sweet Earth. So, nursing a big cup of thai chicken soup (sweet and savory), Lorne is carefully readjusting to life without his arm caught in a metaphorical noose.
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A pause to steel himself, and he starts forward.
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"Wells. Short time no see."
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"The Council passed sentence this morning," he says without preamble.
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No better alternative.
"She's to be stripped of her Slayer powers, and permanently banished from the Academy and any other stronghold of the Slayers or the Council."
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And yet, he can't stop the escalation of relief and bone-numbing fatigue that rush from the very depths of himself. "Brace yourself, you little Hershey bar, 'cause the moment I can feel my legs again I'm gonna kiss you into next week."
Threat or promise? Either way, he's beaming like he hasn't beamed in who knows how long. Ages. Years. Lifetimes.
It feels like things are finally looking up again.
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"...wait, what?"
Of all the reactions he might have expected, this wasn't one of them.
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"It was a very painful process, miles of walking on broken glass, how on Earth do you make sure everyone gets what they deserve - or think they do..." He nods. "Very serious business, but I'm entitled to be deliriously happy, aren't I?"
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"If you're happy they didn't decide to kill her or wipe her mind, then yeah. But this ... it isn't gonna be fun for her. For anyone."
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Patting the seat beside him, Lorne arches his eyebrows. "If I'm not getting the whole picture, gimme a push in the right direction. Go on."
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"In the long run maybe she'll be okay. I hope so. But –- well, just for starters, the spell to cut her off from the Slayer line isn't ready yet. Mrs. Harkness and her wiccans are having to write it practically from the ground up. And until it's ready, she's got to stay where she is."
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"Of course there will be consequences...and I'm thrilled to see that you care enough to twist and turn them over and over in your head, but... What else could you and yours have done that would fit the bill so well?"
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Blue eyes meet red, and hold steady. "Yeah, we did."
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Beat.
"The other Slayers got sentence passed too," he says, "the ones who assaulted you."
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"Don't keep me in suspense, pop tart. Bring it on."
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And then in a completely different voice, sardonic and contemptuous and faintly accented, says "Oh, please. Do they give out the Nobel Prize for attempted physics?"
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It isn't the most dignified snort, but hey, who really cares about silly things like that? Not Lorne. Not when he feels all kinds of elated.
And the giggles that sort of end up on the tail end of the snort, while not too manly, are so heartfelt it more than makes up for it.
Don't hate him for picturing Andrew in a vivid mauve afro. Wearing gigantic clown shoes because they're the only kind of shoes that fit.
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"Sorry. ...Anyway, yeah. There's probably gonna be people mad about that one too." A resigned shrug.
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