[River is sitting in the kitchen with a mug of tea. She's got both hands wrapped tightly about it, and is giving the vague impression that it is not warmth she seeks - but answers. Steam is curling upwards like fog]

Idiot.

[Her journal rests nearby]

[She is actually standing on the bar, arms crossed with her meant-to-project-across-vast-archeological-sites voice]

All right. Which one of you knocked the little sense he does have out of him?

[look who's on the Plane ( Read more... )

[there is the sound of new footsteps on the Plane, deliberate and assured. A face used to stumbling into the unknown, and facing it down with a tilted smile ( Read more... )