022

[fuckitybye]

[Malcolm's been awake for the last few hours and doing nothing but reading through all the postings he's missed while in his hiatus coma. Colour him gobsmacked.]

Right.

So, this sort of thing happen often around here? Go for a quick lie-down and wake up a fucking week later?

...

Glad to see you fucks made it back from the Bank Holiday of the Living Dead, anyhow. Really fucking glad I missed out on it too

ADDED LATER: [Private to the Baroness]
Hey, look, I'm sorry I stood you up, yeah? I didn't expect I was going to fall into a fucking coma before meeting you.


[OOC: And with this, I am officially back from hiatus. Hello to all the new folks who arrived while I was away!]

Comments

[yourunichase]

Yeah, yeah it was fucking bad. You are the luckiest fucking bastard alive, Mulder.

Private

[fuckitybye]

Were you, you know, there? Dudley Do-Right didn't offer any fucking details.

Private

[yourunichase]

Yeah, he was fucking holding my hand when he fucking went. A zombie took a fucking bite out of his neck and tore out an artery or something. Running and shit didn't help.

Private

[fuckitybye]

...Fucking hell, Parker.

That's ... fuck.

Private

[yourunichase]

Yeah, it's pretty fucking bad, Malc. It was one of the worst fucking things I've seen. He just... Judas was trying to sew him up but there...

I'm not fucking thinking about this anymore. They just fucking kept coming.

Private

[fuckitybye]

Jesus.

You—look, you want a drink or something? I can see if Claire'll let me into the fucking pub, yeah?

Private

[yourunichase]

Yes. Denise isn't going to be able to fucking let me, though, because she's in the infirmary. You can come fucking over here if you want.

Private - spam?

[fuckitybye]

Right. Be along in a bit.

Sure!

[yourunichase]

Good. Bring ice, I don't have any.

spam

[fuckitybye]

Bearing ice in a plastic mixing bowl that would have to substitute for an ice bucket, Malcolm knocked on Parker's door.

pam

[yourunichase]

Parker opened the door quickly and grinned when she saw Malcolm, but the grin was smaller than normal, and she looked just incredibly fucking tired. "Glad to see you're still fucking kicking." And she was, because god damn it the number of people she fucking cared about on this boat was getting smaller every fucking day.

Spam

[fuckitybye]

"Cheers, love," Malcolm replied, stepping inside. "Brought the ice." He gave her a once-over look, frowned a little. "Christ, you look like hell, sweetheart."

Re: Spam

[yourunichase]

"Shit, if you're calling me sweetheart, I must look like real fucking hell." Parker said with a muttered laugh. She frowned quickly, and then went to the closet to pull out a rather large bottle of gin. Gin wasn't so high on her favorites, but she'd run out of vodka and there was no scotch left aboard anywhere. From the pocket of her jacket, she grabbed an orange.

Re: Spam

[fuckitybye]

Malcolm set the bowl of ice down. As a rule, he rarely drank—he didn't have the time for it, back home. Here, however, there was nothing but time.

"Aye, well, you just look like you've been run through a fucking laundry mangle," he said, almost but not really joking. "Course, same can be said for all the fucks that just got back from Zombie Brighton."

Spam

[yourunichase]

Parker se the booze down on the desk, and pulled out two glasses, adding ice to them and then pouring a large amount of gin into each glass. She wished she had a fucking knife; after having one for those four days it felt incredibly weird not to have one, but she just started to peel the orange.

It made her think of Paddy and her hands trembled for a moment before she clasped them tightly around the fruit, her nails digging too deeply into it. "Fuck." she muttered quickly, before she held the dripping orange over the glass that was going to be hers.

"Zombie Brighton, huh? Wanna hear the really fucked up thing? Vidal died, Snape died, Paddy fucking died and it was me, Billy and fucking Judas and you know what the fuck our safehouse was? It was a god damn fucking cruise ship."

Re: Spam

[fuckitybye]

Malcolm glanced around for a towel or napkin—hell, tissue paper would do. "A what? Jesus Christ, that's fucked." He looked up at the ceiling, as if expecting to find some manifestation of the Admiral up there. "Sick fucking sense of humour, that cunt."

Spam.

[yourunichase]

Parker didn't need towel, the juice was going right where it was meant too now. "Yeah, the Admiral's a fucking dick. I'm going to punch him in the fucking face if I ever graduate and he wants to make a fucking deal with me." It was a moot point; Parker would never graduate. She handed him the gin that didn't have the bits of juice in it.

Re: Spam.

[fuckitybye]

"You and me both, love." Malcolm took the glass and raised it. "Here's to getting the fuck out of here and punching that sod in the face."

Re: Spam.

[yourunichase]

Parker raised the glass, but she didn't want to get into why the fuck she was never going to graduate from this place. "I hope some fucking day we land in a port where he's the one who needs to go through all of the shit that we did."

Re: Spam.

[fuckitybye]

Malcolm chuckled. "That'd be something, eh? Maybe we could fucking well sell tickets."

Spam.-Sorry, bb, I'm not getting ANY Parker notifs.

[yourunichase]

"Sell tickets? We'd make a fucking mint. Maybe if we all fucking collectively wish it would happen, it would." Parker laughed, and then she took a long sip of her drink.

She really hated gin.

Spam - No worries! LJ fails, news at 11.

[fuckitybye]

"Course, the way things usually fucking seem to run around here, the sod would probably drop us on a planet full of fucking ... lava or something, just out of spite." He took a sip of his drink. Really, he'd have preferred whisky, but beggars and fucking choosers and all that. "You come from a pretty normal sort of fucking world, yeah? No aliens or zombies or vampires or any of that shit?"

Spam. Yay tracking with a different account,

[yourunichase]

"He did put a fucking volcano in ancient fucking Rome when we showed up, the asshole." She watched scotch. It was ironic that the best fucking scotch she'd had in a long time came in the middle of a fucking zombie attack and she didn't get more than a sip of it before her best friend had to go die on her.

"Just geniuses who have the ability to become anyone they want to be by just fucking reading books about it. Not as fucking weird as some." And there was that whole shadowy organization and scrolls, but she didn't know about them yet.

Spam.

[fuckitybye]

Malcolm shrugged and drank a bit more. "This is what I'm wondering about, yeah? Like what sort of fucking effect all this is supposed to have on those of us what come from worlds where all this shit is safely confined to a fucking telly."

Re: Spam.

[yourunichase]

"I don't fucking think the Admiral gives a fuck. It's why some of us are fucking fictional and some of us fucking aren't. I don't think he fucking knows the difference. I mean shit, even the fucking wardens are god damn snapping; how the fuck is this meant to be for our own good?"