You say that like it's a surprise. [He'd been prepared to wait as long as it took for her to agree or tell him to fuck off, and now that she's moving, he steps back into the hallway, heading somewhere with a little more seating space, a spot to line up all the shots they'll need.] How often has he ever managed the whole truth? Never when I've been around. Maybe I missed it.
Mm, ( she hums absently in agreement, lifting up a finger. ) Point.
( sara doesn't comment on rip further, as she's already pissed off at their beloved captain enough and doesn't want to let that particular wound fester more than it has to. she tags along with mick until they reach what can be considered the waverider's makeshift living room (in that it has actual cushioned couches, and a table, even — god forbid the team get anything as cozy as the captain's quarters) and sinks down onto a couch, already looking weary as though they've been through a tumultuous journey to get there.
glancing up at mick with a raised eyebrow, she comments, ) Don't expect me to go easy on you just because you passed out last time, Rory.
I hadn't had a drink in three centuries. [As he flops onto the couch himself, then wonders if they should have collected glasses before sitting down. Too late now.
He takes another pull from the bottle and passes it over. This stuff is a damn sight better than whatever swill they were distilling from dead raccoons, or whatever the hell that stuff had been. Mmm.]
And you didn't even try to wake me up for a bar brawl in the Old West. That hurts.
Excuses, excuses, ( sara chides with a shake of her head, wrapping her fingers — the ones that aren't bruised, aching — around the bottle to take a drink at last. it's actually decent, surprisingly, which makes her glance curiously down at the label as though that's gonna clear anything up for her, what with rip's time jumping abilities.
... maybe she's just gonna, you know, steal another drink before forfeiting the bottle back to mick, pulling her knees up to her chest. ) Figured you might've needed the nap. I doubt the Time Masters were down to let Chronos take a little afternoon siesta.
Hnn. You wouldn't be wrong. [He'll take that bottle back now, thank you, and have a nice long pull of it himself. They'll just go dig up another one if this one isn't enough, and odds are, it won't be.] Lots of ways to keep a man going until the job's done.
[He looks pointedly down at the injured hand when he holds the bottle out again.] Fixing that up, or gonna live with it for a while? [No judgment if it's the latter. Sometimes it's what you do. Mick isn't sure he won't end up punching a dent into a bulkhead before he's done.]
( there's a twitch of a scowl on sara's lips at that. she really has no idea what the full extent of what they'd done to mick, outside of the complete and utter brainwashing that apparently wasn't all that effective — chalk that up to his stubborn personality, his undying loyalty, she supposes. sara doesn't really want to think about the cruelty of those time bastards — len's affectionate nickname for those assholes, a thought which sends another pang of grief rolling through her stomach, making her press her cheek against her knee as though curling up into a ball might stave off the pain — right now.
her eyes sweep idly over the harsh, reddened skin at her knuckles, and she gives a halfhearted shrug as she takes the bottle again. ) Probably just let it go. Kind of feels like a cop out to use Gideon for something so stupid. ( she takes her drink, lips curling into a smile around the bottle's lip as she thinks of her next witty retort. ) Besides, I've felt worse. Try getting shot by three arrows and falling from the edge of a building to your death. ( sara flexes her bruised fingers, not even bothering to wince with pain as she hands the bottle off. ) It's not so bad.
[It hadn't been pretty. He won't shy away from the details if she wants them, they've been through too much and he knows she could take it, but he's never been the type to open up. Rarely had anyone to open up to who didn't already know enough to know not to ask.
Never been that demonstrative either, but the way she's curling in on himself makes him toss a casual arm over her back as he takes another long drink.]
Got shot by arrows once. Haven't died yet. Not sure I'd trade.
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( sara doesn't comment on rip further, as she's already pissed off at their beloved captain enough and doesn't want to let that particular wound fester more than it has to. she tags along with mick until they reach what can be considered the waverider's makeshift living room (in that it has actual cushioned couches, and a table, even — god forbid the team get anything as cozy as the captain's quarters) and sinks down onto a couch, already looking weary as though they've been through a tumultuous journey to get there.
glancing up at mick with a raised eyebrow, she comments, ) Don't expect me to go easy on you just because you passed out last time, Rory.
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He takes another pull from the bottle and passes it over. This stuff is a damn sight better than whatever swill they were distilling from dead raccoons, or whatever the hell that stuff had been. Mmm.]
And you didn't even try to wake me up for a bar brawl in the Old West. That hurts.
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... maybe she's just gonna, you know, steal another drink before forfeiting the bottle back to mick, pulling her knees up to her chest. ) Figured you might've needed the nap. I doubt the Time Masters were down to let Chronos take a little afternoon siesta.
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[He looks pointedly down at the injured hand when he holds the bottle out again.] Fixing that up, or gonna live with it for a while? [No judgment if it's the latter. Sometimes it's what you do. Mick isn't sure he won't end up punching a dent into a bulkhead before he's done.]
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her eyes sweep idly over the harsh, reddened skin at her knuckles, and she gives a halfhearted shrug as she takes the bottle again. ) Probably just let it go. Kind of feels like a cop out to use Gideon for something so stupid. ( she takes her drink, lips curling into a smile around the bottle's lip as she thinks of her next witty retort. ) Besides, I've felt worse. Try getting shot by three arrows and falling from the edge of a building to your death. ( sara flexes her bruised fingers, not even bothering to wince with pain as she hands the bottle off. ) It's not so bad.
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Never been that demonstrative either, but the way she's curling in on himself makes him toss a casual arm over her back as he takes another long drink.]
Got shot by arrows once. Haven't died yet. Not sure I'd trade.