Fabu's subject line was "anything to get me writing"
and Catt and I were talking this weekend about how I've stalled out, though that may be because what I'm working on right now is kind of epic in length, so I am putting words down, but I'm not posting anything*, so it feels like I'm not writing. So let's do something short. I haven't written a kiss in a while. (For newcomers to this journal, when I
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Okay, clearly I suck at this game, since I had this half written before I remembered that the prompt was supposed to be a first line. Whoops?
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“Major, a word?” Oh crap, Lorne thought. If Sheppard was asking about normal stuff, it was “Lorne, you got a sec?” and if he wanted a favor or was about to do something really stupid, Sheppard pulled out “buddy” but “Lorne, a word,” meant he was deliberately channeling Weir and Sheppard trying to be diplomatic…well, that never ended well.
“Colonel.” He assumed the position, figuring a little extra formality couldn’t hurt.
“Major, I have seen some self-censored mission reports in my day. I’ve written a few, even.” He paused and Lorne wondered if he was thinking about the mudhole planet, too. Probably not. The mudhole planet always made Sheppard pull the constipated face. Now he just looked vaguely confused. “But this, this is a shining example of be-verbs and brevity to the point of eliding right over the subject.”
“Yes sir.”
“Well?”
“Thank you, sir.”
“It wasn’t a compliment. I get the introductions, the parameters of the trade deal are very nicely laid out, oh, nice deal on the glassware, by the way.”
“That was Dr. Zelenka’s call, sir. Clever of him.”
“Yes, you made sure to give him credit, but Zelenka, in the next paragraph here. I think you left out some words.” He flipped the paper to show him.
Evan scanned it then returned his gaze to the far wall. “No sir, that’s how I wrote it.”
Sheppard read aloud, “Due to a misunderstanding, the locals believed that the attending scientist and the team command were married. Anthropological notes on culture and family structure in Weaver’s account.”
“Dr. Weaver’s reports are usually quite detailed.”
“Lorne, for pity’s sake, sit down. Look, I understand. Sometimes the scientists can be… well it’s a left brain right brain thing. Or something. Look, are you having trouble with…?”
Evan spared a moment to wonder if he was making the constipated face. “My team performs excellently, sir, and we are not having interpersonal difficulties.”
“But you and Zelenka were bickering. And the natives misinterpreted that.”
Evan grinned in spite of himself as he said, “Have you been in the field with Radek, sir? He’s not McKay. He gets all enthusiastic about light refraction and then…” and then he starts waving and talking in equations and smiling and that’s when Evan himself gets caught up in it and … oh crap. Best to quit with the smiling.
“Not bickering? Married behavior, but not bickering.”
Yeah, that was it then. “I think perhaps we have different views on how married people interact, sir.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I’m trying very hard not to tell you anything, Colonel Sheppard.”
Sheppard went silent and Lorne waited. Eventually, Sheppard slapped his thighs and stood up. “Okay, report stands as is. Keep your bickering behind closed doors, yeah?”
“Sir, yes sir.”
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I miss you.
I can read your posts here, but I can't comment or see them there, so I see what you are saying, but I'm on the other side of a glass window, it feels like.
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Not OpenID. I have an account under my name and I don't know how to close out the OpenID thingie to make it go away.
One hand clapping, I swear. 8_) I am such a dingbat sometimes.
Yay, we exist to one another again! Well, once you get online and do the clicky dance.
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