(Untitled)

[balletrat]

*Meg's original plan, in coming downstairs, was to get drunk.

Recent events have only furthered her resolve.

Therefore, after this, Meg can be found at the bar, still covered in stone dust and scratches, drinking a cup of coffee. Into which has been poured a liberal dose of absinthe.*

Comments

[maydaybrat]

Okay.

There is mind-splitting headache from judgement, and then there's Meg drinking.

Coffee.

Laced with alcohol.

Heh.

[maydaybrat]

"...start from a begining, maybe?"

[balletrat]

*Meg blinks at him.

Readily enough:* Okay - it started when we were abducted by aliens.

*That's - sort of the start of a different story. In Meg's head, though, it pretty much all flows from there.*

[maydaybrat]

Drily,

"You have my full attention."

[balletrat]

*A small shrug.* We were being held hostage - political thing. Only, you know, dead, so all I had to do was wait long enough 'till I got insubstantial so I could float out and go get help -

*There's a little more emphasis on the word - a little darker - than there usually is.*

[maydaybrat]

An odd little smile.

"Sometimes being a ghost has its advantages."

[balletrat]

*A bitter snort.*

Sometimes.

Got us out, anyways - though, you know, compared to the rest of my week, the being abducted by aliens part? Relatively peaceful.

[maydaybrat]

"You were abducted by aliens."

His tone is very measured, very serious and calm.

This is because he's trying not to snigger.

[balletrat]

We were abducted by aliens, *Meg agrees, flatly.*

Then Andrew got beaten up by aliens, 'cause I was too slow getting back.

Then we got home, and, probably in part due leftover crossness from being abducted by aliens, got into a - I don't even know if you'd call it a fight - I don't even know if there is still a 'we' anymore -

*She stops, for a long moment, looking down at her hands; takes a breath, and looks back up at Mordred, her expression blank.*

And, the first time I came downstairs after that, got taken hostage by a bounty hunter - who then got his soul ripped out - and that about sums up my week.

[maydaybrat]

Lightly,

"Well, I can see why you are drinking, then."

[balletrat]

I figure, *Meg agrees, brightly,* that by my rule of one-per-catastrophe, I'm owed at least three stiff ones.

[maydaybrat]

"Three."

[balletrat]

*Meg ticks off on her fingers.*

The aliens, Jubal Early, and the fight.

*After a considering moment:* Possibly an extra one, for the fight. There's at least two drink's worth of potential in there.

[maydaybrat]

He's never going to let her live this down. Nope.

"Oh, I see."

[balletrat]

*Fortunately, Meg is at this point at least three-quarters of the way to fully intoxicated, and therefore too drunk to realize it.*

Well. I mean, *she says, and takes another gulp of coffee.* Anyone ever offer to bring you back to life? 'cause - I mean, how do you handle something like that?

[maydaybrat]

"My dear, darling, Oracle...I am Mordred Pendragon. I don't think anyone with that kind of power wants to see me alive again."

Beat.

"I'd suggest blinking at them a lot."