we are far from home i am with you now
(OOC: Backdated to the 3rd, because I am TERRIBLE.)
Meggie is eight years old today. She hasn't done anything to celebrate her birthday since her mother was around, though - since she turned four - because none of the foster families bothered. And so she wakes up expecting nothing of the day, because that's what's normal. The Tower does see fit to provide her with a little plastic tiara and she pulls on a frilly pink dress before heading out for the day's exploration of the Kashtta. Today, Meggie is going to explore the kitchen. Which may or may not be allowed. And that is how she winds up sitting on the floor, underneath the counter, with large bowl of brownie mix she might have grabbed from the counter top. Pardon her if there's any on her face. Or hands, or dress, or pretty much anything in her reach. She couldn't find a spoon, you see.
McCoy is assembling a spinny chair. His office on the Enterprise had one and it had been comfortable and, well, the piece of shit in his office here just isn't the same, so he's finally broken down and obtained a spinny chair... but now he has to put it together himself. And McCoy is not a handy man. You'll find him sitting on the floor of his office, pieces of chair spread out around him and instructions half-crumpled in the corner, swearing away and wearing just a t-shirt and jeans, unusual for him when he's on the job. And he's almost always on the job. It's a strange and possibly slightly pathetic sight.
Miles is drunk. He is at the counter of a seedy bar, staring at his wrist. "Santa" (although who else could it have been?) brought him the watch he'd worn during his time on the island. Its hands had decided to stop on 8:15. Fuck everything, really, is Miles' philosophy right now.
Meggie is eight years old today. She hasn't done anything to celebrate her birthday since her mother was around, though - since she turned four - because none of the foster families bothered. And so she wakes up expecting nothing of the day, because that's what's normal. The Tower does see fit to provide her with a little plastic tiara and she pulls on a frilly pink dress before heading out for the day's exploration of the Kashtta. Today, Meggie is going to explore the kitchen. Which may or may not be allowed. And that is how she winds up sitting on the floor, underneath the counter, with large bowl of brownie mix she might have grabbed from the counter top. Pardon her if there's any on her face. Or hands, or dress, or pretty much anything in her reach. She couldn't find a spoon, you see.
McCoy is assembling a spinny chair. His office on the Enterprise had one and it had been comfortable and, well, the piece of shit in his office here just isn't the same, so he's finally broken down and obtained a spinny chair... but now he has to put it together himself. And McCoy is not a handy man. You'll find him sitting on the floor of his office, pieces of chair spread out around him and instructions half-crumpled in the corner, swearing away and wearing just a t-shirt and jeans, unusual for him when he's on the job. And he's almost always on the job. It's a strange and possibly slightly pathetic sight.
Miles is drunk. He is at the counter of a seedy bar, staring at his wrist. "Santa" (although who else could it have been?) brought him the watch he'd worn during his time on the island. Its hands had decided to stop on 8:15. Fuck everything, really, is Miles' philosophy right now.