[RP] We're not questioning God, just those he chose to carry on His cross.

[sarkraticmethod]

[[OOC: Backdated to right after the Silent Hall thread, circa two months ago.]]

Sark wouldn't admit it to anyone, but April's journal entry announcing the return of one Jack Harkness or John Thane or whoever the hell he was today set him so far on edge that it took every iota of control that he had within him to keep from turning into something and

Comments

[superiorspectre]

Suzie freezes for a moment, then relaxes, as she reminds herself of the fact that this is Sark and he is... About as safe as is possible for him to get.

After a moment, she makes a little 'hmph' noise and turns, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing a bit closer. It's partly a desire for contact, for comfort, and partly the fact that, with more contact comes more chance to read his movements, his breath, his heartbeat... It makes him slightly more predictable.

In a lot of ways, cuddling close is less nerve-wracking than feeling him so close but just barely touching him.

And perhaps the whiskey isn't quite done with her yet, because she finds herself murmuring, "Don't misunderstand. You're not by any means unattractive. I just can't think of a worse possible time to even theoretically consider anything more than..." she yawns, "...this. And it's nice, just having a friend here..."

And between the alcohol and pervasive exhaustion, she only barely gets that last word out before she shifts again, snuggling against him, and falls quite soundly asleep.

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark doesn't tense when she wraps her arms around his waist, just leans a little closer into it, wrapping an arm around her in kind. His hands keep finding their way to her hair for some reason.

He tries not to laugh at her murmuring, but there's a small hitch in his breath that suggests a mostly suppressed chuckle. "Go to sleep, Suzie," he says, very gently. He'd rather not be the one who let her ramble while sleep-deprieved and slightly drunk- he'd like this situation to not be awkward in the morning, thank you.

That said, he closes his eyes, wiggles just a bit to get into a more comfortable position, and his breathing relaxes into that casual state of almost-sleep. Not quite sleep, yet, but getting there. If anything, the whiskey certainly made him feel like sleeping for the first time in ages. Suzie being here helps as well.