If you take a life, do you know what you give? Odds are you won't like what it is.

[nothingsodivine]

Desmond Descant has gotten over the whole fiasco in the park with Calisto and that kid as much as he's going to get over it. (Because it's hard to get over losing yourself so completely that you'd almost be willing to kill a kid just to kill the demon bitch using him for a human shield.) Which means to say that he's no longer brooding about it and

Comments

[taibhsearachd]

Kara sits down unceremoniously on the floor beside the couch, leaning against it, her back to Des, and for a moment she's silent and still.

And then she tilts her head back to look at the ceiling tiles.

It's another minute or two before she says anything.

"They're not even interesting colors, Desmond. Honestly."

[nothingsodivine]

Anytime anyone calls him by his (not actually real) first name that isn't Pestilence (he's used to it from her), he gets a rather funny look on his face. Not that he should. It's his name, after all. Weird tic, apparently. Go figure.

The way he's positioned, he can actually turn his head a bit and kinda-sorta look behind his chair and see Kara. It's going to give him a crick in his neck, doing that, but he'll... Worry about that later.

"It's not the ceiling tiles that interest me, honestly," he says, grinning a little in a teasing way. "They just happen to be in the direction I'm looking while I'm thinking."

Or something like that. Justification of any action that Des makes generally falls flat- especially if he's the one doing the justifying.

[taibhsearachd]

"Is there something living in the ceiling?" Kara asks solemnly.

It's hard to tell if she's joking or not. Perhaps it's best not to ask.

[nothingsodivine]

Des has lived long enough where questions like that aren't all that strange... And he's seen enough strange things in his time that it's seriously a legitimite question, so either way, he's compelled to answer.

He turns his head back to the ceiling as if he's seriously contemplating whether or not there might be something living up there. "If there is, it better be friendly, because I've got enough on my plate to worry about other than face-eating monsters living in the ceiling."

His luck is so bad, it wouldn't surprise him in the slightest, however, if it were true.

[smithnjones]

Martha has just come back from the Inn and from showing Maya to her room. She should get back to the medical room, but she likes to check in the common room and kitchen in case... Well, in case, someone needs something.

Seeing Des lying on the armrests of the chair, she approaches him slowly, looking down at him, tilting her head, and pushing back the memories of what happened in the Inn with someone who looks nearly identical to him.

"Hey..."

[nothingsodivine]

"Well, Martha Jones, I see you haven't vanished off to your Inn on me," he says, turning to look at her with a teasing grin.

He can't help playing with her about that. It's not like he knows much anything about it... Or Jack for that matter.

Either Jack.

[smithnjones]

Unfortunately, Martha doesn't know about Jack yet either so she can't warn him.

She does, however, face palm at the teasing smile and the words that come with it.

"You don't think I'm crazy, do you?" She says it in a way that implies even if he does think she's absolutely nuts, he should keep it to himself.

[nothingsodivine]

"Of course not!" He says, swinging his legs over the side of the chair and somehow managing to bring himself into a sitting position that's a bit less awkward (and hard on his back) than his previous one. "I lost the right to call anyone crazy a couple centuries ago."

Or a couple millennia, rather, but who's counting?

"Hopefully, it's just an isolated occurance, because while I'd love to pop off to some pandimensional Inn for a few hours, I think I'd find it pretty hard to come back myself, and I'm sure the people here agree with that sentiment."

He'd make an effort though if it came to that. People here need him. And, maybe, just maybe he needs them.

Except there's no real maybe about that, especially when it comes to her.

Oh the things he'll never say.