At Milliways, recovering

[nomorekaraoke]

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.

Comments

[nomorekaraoke]

"That sounds--" Not nice, definitely not nice, the very opposite of nice. He makes a scrunchy face at the idea. "Mind numbingly awkward."

[stilljustandrew]

"Then I'm not telling it right." He puts down the coffee and rests his chin on one hand. "I mean – the whole situation was awkward sometimes. A lot of the time. But ... situations like that, it helps just to know there's someone else there who gets it, you know?"

[nomorekaraoke]

He shrugs, deciding the smartest thing to do is just to agree and move on. But just seconds later, he shrugs again. "I really don't, actually..."

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew glances back at him. "You don't?"

[nomorekaraoke]

It's Lorne's turn to keep his eyes trained on his approximation of a drink, what little there is left of it. He shakes his head.


What else is there to say? What else is there to do?

[stilljustandrew]

"That particular situation, you mean, or knowing that someone gets whatever situation you happen to be in?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"I don't know." He sighs, and he doesn't even try to cover it up, noting dryly to himself that he's one big roller coaster ride lately. Up and down and looping. Over and over and over...

"Story of my life, I guess. No one knows, and as far as I know, no one really wants to."

He looks up, smiling (and he can feel how fake it is, so fake it's cracking like a slab of mud on a hot summer's day). "It is what it is, right?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Everything always is what it is," he agrees steadily. "But everything changes."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Yeah. Even if you're not ready for it."

He's been procrastinating on one thing in particular for too long; on a small collection of copied parchments and a small bone vial containing the most precious thing in the world, and he thinks maybe he should stop stalling. Maybe he should stop being afraid and let things change... If they're meant to, he doesn't have the right to stand in the way.

"I'm not ready for change. Old demons and new tricks, you know."

[stilljustandrew]

"You're not old," he says, sounding amusedly indignant.

[nomorekaraoke]

"I feel old." A hint of his earlier mirth shines through his voice, and he gestures at the general vicinity of his forehead. "Just look at my frown lines!"

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew snorts mildly, and takes another drink of his coffee.

[nomorekaraoke]

It's the desired effect, and that's got to be enough. Because, like they say, enough is enough, and he's had more than enough of being social for tonight. Today. What ever time of day or night this is.

"I'd better get back to bed. Doc's orders, I need to get plenty R&R if I ever want to get on top of things again. You don't take a boot to the heart like that and just brush it off, not even if you're Pylean. Or so she says."

[stilljustandrew]

"I'll let you get to it, then." He raises his glass halfway. "Rest well."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Take care, Samwise." He slowly slides off the stool, rolling his shoulders as if to just make sure everything is in place. Then, draining his glass, which disappears where he sets it down, he gives Andrew one last smile.

He has a feeling that pet name will stick.