(no subject)
It had been a fairly uneventful day so far, in comparison to the past few weeks. Recent disappearances had hit hard, for many, though strangely enough (or perhaps not) the one recent disappearance that had been the most upsetting to Saffron had been the one that had only truly affected her and one other person. John hadn't even been on the island terrible long, but she was going to miss that certain dynamic that came from dealing with someone who loved the game and played it very well, just like her.
Then there was the matter of Roger being in the clinic. He was Bill's friend, for true, not hers, but she couldn't help thinking all the worry over his illness would have been moot in her world. She didn't like seeing Bill upset, so she'd visited Roger a couple of times since he'd been in there, going to sit with him when Bill couldn't, and she was starting to see why the two of them were such good friends.
Today she'd taken the dinner shift in the kitchen, bringing plates to Bill and Roger in the clinic - for Bill, what she'd cooked for everyone else, and for Roger, something much blander and more likely to agree with his stomach. Darkness was beginning to fall outside, and she wasn't looking for anyone in particular, just a friendly face or two to chat with, maybe get some company for the night.
It wasn't unusual for her to find someone watching a vid of some sort on the projector when she came into the rec room. What was unusual, however, was to see herself on the screen. Herself, informing Malcolm Reynolds that she wouldn't tell anyone how easy it was to get his gun out of his holster. Saffron froze, her eyes traveling slowly to see just who was watching the events of her life right before coming to the island.
As her houzi de pigu of an ex-husband began to strip as ordered, she stared wide-eyed at Dean and Sam Winchester, two of the most important men to her on the island. She took a calming breath, moved into their line of vision, and waited for the fallout.
[monkey's butt]
Then there was the matter of Roger being in the clinic. He was Bill's friend, for true, not hers, but she couldn't help thinking all the worry over his illness would have been moot in her world. She didn't like seeing Bill upset, so she'd visited Roger a couple of times since he'd been in there, going to sit with him when Bill couldn't, and she was starting to see why the two of them were such good friends.
Today she'd taken the dinner shift in the kitchen, bringing plates to Bill and Roger in the clinic - for Bill, what she'd cooked for everyone else, and for Roger, something much blander and more likely to agree with his stomach. Darkness was beginning to fall outside, and she wasn't looking for anyone in particular, just a friendly face or two to chat with, maybe get some company for the night.
It wasn't unusual for her to find someone watching a vid of some sort on the projector when she came into the rec room. What was unusual, however, was to see herself on the screen. Herself, informing Malcolm Reynolds that she wouldn't tell anyone how easy it was to get his gun out of his holster. Saffron froze, her eyes traveling slowly to see just who was watching the events of her life right before coming to the island.
As her houzi de pigu of an ex-husband began to strip as ordered, she stared wide-eyed at Dean and Sam Winchester, two of the most important men to her on the island. She took a calming breath, moved into their line of vision, and waited for the fallout.
[monkey's butt]