(Untitled)

[stranded_ford]

A sober(ish) Ford Prefect was an unhappy Ford Prefect. The fact had been stated before, but now it was being proven. He grumbled. He bitched. He moaned. He kept peeking into his empty bottle of Ol’ Janx Spirit when he hoped it wasn’t paying attention, but it had thus far failed to refill itself

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[yoursarahjane]

Men. Really, honestly, Sarah Jane sometimes wondered just how they made it from one step to the next and when she found the man on the beach singing, she simply sighed and made her way along, vowing to at least ask what was so terribly in need of commemorating in song. "And just what's that supposed to mean?" she asked, of the gesture.

[stranded_ford]

Ford turned the universe defying grin towards the woman. “It means something along the lines of ‘fuck you bastards in the highly unpleasant manner of your choosing’. Present company excepted from the you bastards bit.” He sighed and looked back up at the sky. “Unless of course, you want to be included in the you bastards bit. Then by all means, feel free to do what you like with my little piece of friendly advice.”

So ok, he wasn't exactly in a terribly social or tactworthy mood.

[yoursarahjane]

"No, I don't think I'd like to be either a bastard or in need of fucking off," Sarah remarked, half-icily, half-curiously. After all, there was usually a reason for the shouting and she did want to figure it out. "I imagine, then, that something's gone terribly awry."

[stranded_ford]

"Terribly, terribly awry," Ford said, nodding and closing his eyes. "I almost found myself stating the obvious. It was dreadful." He shuddered at the memory.

"So... human."

[dodgy_decarabas]

The Marquis was growing terribly bored with the island. He'd yet to find any information to his advantage, even when he looked for it, which was an unusual state of affairs, and not to mention a frustrating one. There really wasn't much for him to do here except socialize, which he was quite good at, but it was the sort of thing he didn't like to do unless there was something in it for him. In this case, the only thing in it seemed to be conversation to break up the monotony of island life.

Nevertheless, he had not bothered with very much of that lately. Monotony was preferable to talking, sometimes, especially when the collective IQ of the only people available to converse with were probably in the low hundreds.

When he stumbled, that night, across Ford Prefect, however, he made an exception. The man was certainly an exception to the incredible mundaneness of this place.

'That's an interesting tune,' he opined, 'And an interesting gesture, as well. Might I inquire as to the occasion, Mr Prefect?'

[stranded_ford]

“It is nothing more than to remind myself of where I come from and of the fact that I can't stay here forever.” Ford kept his gaze skywards. “Totally and absolutely necessary. It's helping my sanity, but probably not that of the rest of the population. But a small price considering the fact that I could be absolutely stark raving mad by now instead. And, seeing as I am not yet running around saying ‘wibble’ with a pair of pants on my head and pencils up my nose, things are looking up.”

[dodgy_decarabas]

'Ah, but pants on one's head would make sense if one had legs growing there,' the Marquis pointed out, nonsensically. 'You know, I rather think whoever runs this island should invest in an asylum. It would certainly come in handy when, inevitably, you do go mad.' He smiled brightly.

[stranded_ford]

"I went mad once before though. And trust me, there are no mental institutions on pre-historic earth. I think they just whack you over the top of the head instead." He shrugged. "It was quite fun, going mad. I did it for a year or so. There was a really fun bit when I thought I was a lemon and kept jumping in and out of a lake that thought it was a gin and tonic."

[dreaming_cowboy]

Spike considers the gesture, hands in his back pockets, even checking behind him. It hadn't looked exactly friendly, as gestures went. Spike could tell. He's something of an expert at angry gestures people could make at him. "You waving at me, or the sky?"

[stranded_ford]

"Sky," Ford said simply. "The sky and that mind-buggeringly, deppressingly empty of anything resembling a decent starship expanse of nothing." It was enough to get almost any sane person down. Luckily, Ford Prefect had never really been sane.

[dreaming_cowboy]

Neither is Spike, come to that, but it gets him down all the same.

"Yeah, I hear that," he says, and then stares upwards and makes a rude gesture of his own at it. "It's as bad as that ship on the beach no one can get to work. So it just sits there like it's mocking us."

[stranded_ford]

"Great Zarquon, I hate that fucking ship. Honestly, there has to be enough combined brain power here to get in running, but no. A bunch of monkeys banging on it with wrenches would have gotten further than... Wait. Never mind. That's pretty much what this place is already." Ford was starting to get sick of ape descendants.

[theunascended]

Daniel had never been much of a drinker and he certainly didn't drink alone, but when he saw the man sitting at the beach, making a gesture that was probably either a come on or a tell off to an invisible person, or more likely the island itself, Daniel decided to stop his walk home.

He sat unceremoniously next to the man and held out his hand.

"Daniel Jackson."

[stranded_ford]

Ford shook it, but remained reclined, not even sparing the man a real glance. He was too busy watching. What if he slipped and blinked and missed a suspicious flash?

"Ford Prefect."

[theunascended]

"Mind?" Daniel asked, nodding at the bottle before looking up.

"Anything familiar up there? Sometimes I recognize them and sometimes I don't." He'd sort of given up with Rodney's project, although he should probably give what he'd come up with to the Rodney that had come back to the island.

[stranded_ford]

Ford waved a dismissive hand at the bottle. "Help yourself, man. It's rubbish."

He sighed and pointed towards something that might have been the constellation Orion. His finger was a bit wobbly though, and the stars didn't seem quite in the right position. "Home. Haven't been there in ages. So now I'm just waiting for the green flying saucers to come and take me back."