(Untitled)

[not_the_chav]

The printing on the note Martha was affixing to the bulletin board was admirably legible. Having moved aside some old fliers, she pinned the paper to the board, smoothed one hand over it, and stepped back to read it for the twentieth time that day:

WANTED: Platonic male companion for research and adventure. Must be level-headed, good under

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[how_itgoes]

Sam's got a massive migraine and all he can hear is whistling again, that damn whistling and it's making him near-blind with the pain of it that comes in and goes. This is it, he can hear Tony Crane, still. He winces as his vision goes somewhat dark and a hand's to his head.

God, but he could use Annie right about now.

He doesn't even see who he bumps into, his vision's gone all black and tunnel-like and all he can see is someone's collar. "Sorry," he apologises immediately, wincing still, the whistling loud as ever.

[not_the_chav]

"Oh, no wor-" Martha began as her head automatically swung round to witness whomever had run into her, but the words cut off when she focused on his face. That face.

I think I may be having a psychotic break, Martha dimly thought, her mind far calmer than her body, which had immediately taken hold of that bastard and thrown him up against the wall with her forearm pressed hard against his neck.

"You're right," she breathed, boot heels squeaking against the polished concrete floor as she leaned into the hold. "You are sorry."

[how_itgoes]

The golden chain that Sam wears went flying as his eyes opened fully and funny, but Tony Crane decided to take a whiz or something, because there's nothing but static silence in his head as he's pushed up against the wall, scoffing just mildly.

"Hello to you too?" he greets, weakly, barely getting out the words.

Well, it could be worse. Could be the boot of Gene's trunk. "You Gene's Missus, then? Does it run in the m-marriage?" he chokes out, coughing. Sometime in the last little while, Ivanhoe's come up, too, hissing at the woman and Sam wonders if that means Annie's let him out or if she's nearby.

[not_the_chav]

Martha wasn't letting him go. In fact, she wasn't even considering it.

"Fancy yourself a comic, I know," she replied, her steady voice giving no indication of the emotion roiling through her. "You might not remember me, but I remember you well enough."

[red_ponytail]

Bill read the notice with interest; thinking it sounded just like his type of thing. Level-headed, good under pressure, quick thinker, physically fit - yeah, he was all of those. And his boots were very bloody sensible as far as he was concerned. The 'able to be away from the settlement for indefinite periods of time' bit gave him pause, as Ron and Charlie had only just shown up, but Bill knew, realistically, that as much as he wanted to prevent it, if the island saw fit to take them away even chaining them to his person wouldn't stop it happening.

"M. Jones?" he said to the bird who'd just hung the notice, holding out a hand for her to shake with a friendly grin. "Bill Weasley, interested party."

[not_the_chav]

"Bill... Weasley, did you say?" Martha replied, accepting the hand and giving it a solid shake. Bloody hell, a Harry Potter character wanted to be her companion. "Martha Jones, pleasure to meet you."

Realizing that it wouldn't be prudent to ask him which Weasley he was, Martha inquired instead, "You've experience, then?" It was also on the tip of her tongue to ask if his mother was about, because if she was, there was no way Martha would take one of her boys out into the wilderness. Not even she was willing to face the well-documented wrath of Mrs. Weasley.

[red_ponytail]

"Weasley, yeah," Bill replied, wondering if she'd heard his name from someone on the island or if she'd read those books about Harry. "Pleasure to meet you as well, Martha."

He nodded in response to her question. "Back home I was a curse breaker - the non-magical equivalent would be an archaeologist, I reckon. I worked for five years in Egypt, searching for magical artefacts and protecting Mug-er, non-magical people from wizarding curses."

[not_the_chav]

So this Weasley was the one who'd been in Egypt, not the one who worked with dragons. Martha was just a tiny bit disappointed, if only because experience working with dragons would have come very much in handy for what she was planning to do.

"I know what a Muggle is, it's alright," she replied with a calm smile as she took him in. He was certainly fit enough for it, and had that adventurous spark to his eye. "Why d'you want to do something like this?" she asked, because that was important.

[icetruckkiller]

Now that was interesting. Normally Brian tried to avoid the bullentin board, but that was because most of the announcements were irritating or pointless. As far as the list of qualities M. Jones was looking for in a male platonic companion, he fit all of them including the sensible pair of shoes.

He glanced over at the woman briefly, reasoning that she could be M. Jones, but then virtually anyone could have been. "Hello."

[not_the_chav]

Martha lifted her gaze and smiled, briefly. "Hullo," she replied, her demeanor calm but eyes alight with curiosity as she took him in. The appraisal was brief but thorough, taking note of his physique, the way he held himself, and of course his shoes.

[icetruckkiller]

It was hard to tell if she had put the sign up or not. She did seem vaguely interested in his shoes though so he figured he'd ask. "You don't happen to know anyone named M. Jones, do you?"

[misanthrope_md]

House was just walking out of the compound when he saw the girl - she looked vaguely familiar - putting up a sign, and just out of habit, he glanced over his shoulder and read it. And really, he had to stop. "You've got to be kidding me," he said, looking entirely too amused.

[not_the_chav]

"Afraid not, Dr. House," Martha easily replied as she stepped aside to lean against the wall beside the board. They'd not met, but she knew him, couldn't possibly mistake him.

[misanthrope_md]

Aha, he finally placed her. Which, to be fair, wasn't that difficult since he hadn't seen a black woman on the island for a while. "You said Chase wanted you to intern under him," he said, looking amused. "What's wrong, he's not level-headed or fit enough for you? To be fair, he sometimes has problems with platonic, too."

[29dayslater]

Whether Martha hears him come down the hall or not doesn't really matter. He's stopped by after a few days practicing at being a hermit. Sitting on the beach in front of his hut (his hut, Jesus, nothing like that's ever been just his) gives Jim a lot of time to think, time he never had back in London then driving then the blockade, and days later he still isn't sure where his thoughts are.

They're definitely not with people and panic and patting each other on the back, which he watches from a safe enough distance to gather enough information (he hasn't talked to Annie yet, but she's fine, he heard, she's fine) before retreating back down the beach and to the one place he's starting to feel safe again.

Right now, feeling a bit odd (in a good way) with a full meal in his stomach, he leans against the wall, close enough to read what Martha's notice says, and it makes him smile. A little.

"Are you mad?" he asks simply before she walks away, arms crossed over a still too thin torso.

[not_the_chav]

In fact, Martha hadn't heard his approach, and when Jim spoke, it annoyed her that she'd not; She fancied that she was rather good at things like that these days, but apparently not if he was sneaking up on her.

Her smile was ready in spite of this, and she answered, "Yes, almost certainly." How she wished she was joking. "Are you? Because I'm looking for someone a bit mad."

[29dayslater]

Jim can detail the many, many ways in which he believes he's gone mad or wishes he has. "I suppose I am," is what he settles for, and he has to be, if he's honestly thinking about this. Because getting back to people - even a small population like this one - isn't all Jim's imagined it'd be like.

[not_the_chav]

He was considering the ad, Martha could see it in his eyes. It was heartening, because Jim wasn't a stranger, and while they weren't close, they seemed to share a lot in common.

"Think you might be interested?" she asked, motioning to the board. "It won't be boring, I can promise you that much."