ext_15062 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
starborn-scribe.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crossing_lostrp2006-08-21 10:05 pm
starborn-scribe.livejournal.com) wrote in crossing_lostrp2006-08-21 10:05 pm
Entry tags:
[Scott] Day 20 (morning): Back to Reality (open tag)
The heavenly aromas of coffee, bacon, and eggs gradually roused Scott from a deep sleep. (Ami's making breakfast,) Scott thought muzzily. Something about that wasn't right, though. Eventually he realized what: Ami couldn't be making breakfast because she was curled up beside him.
Grinning, Scott hugged his wife closer. Ami stirred slightly, sighing contentedly. Nevertheless a sense of wrongness nagged at him. Scott tried but failed to open his eyes. (Why am I so tired--)
"Yes, Dr. Jackson, I was going to start another pot of coffee!"
(McKay?) The man's voice was like nails on a blackboard, which helped Scott claw his way to consciousness.
"'Save the world. Make more coffee.' I have to do everything around here," McKay groused. His voice was somewhat muffled, as well as the sounds of cabinets opening and closing and water running from a faucet.
The past few days' events rushed back to Scott. He groaned, which made Ami whimper slightly. /It's all right,/ he soothed. Her emotions evened out as she calmed. The fact that he felt anything at all from her was a good sign. (She's recovering. Sleeping, not comatose. Thank god.)
Scott carefully untangled himself from Ami, glancing around as he did so. They were still on a mattress in a corner of the cafeteria. Since the bunker was underground he couldn't tell if it was day or night. Judging from how hungry he was -- and how badly he had to pee -- Scott figured he'd been out for a long while.
After making sure that Ami was stable and sleeping soundly, Scott stiffly got to his feet. "Good morning," someone said.
Grinning, Scott hugged his wife closer. Ami stirred slightly, sighing contentedly. Nevertheless a sense of wrongness nagged at him. Scott tried but failed to open his eyes. (Why am I so tired--)
"Yes, Dr. Jackson, I was going to start another pot of coffee!"
(McKay?) The man's voice was like nails on a blackboard, which helped Scott claw his way to consciousness.
"'Save the world. Make more coffee.' I have to do everything around here," McKay groused. His voice was somewhat muffled, as well as the sounds of cabinets opening and closing and water running from a faucet.
The past few days' events rushed back to Scott. He groaned, which made Ami whimper slightly. /It's all right,/ he soothed. Her emotions evened out as she calmed. The fact that he felt anything at all from her was a good sign. (She's recovering. Sleeping, not comatose. Thank god.)
Scott carefully untangled himself from Ami, glancing around as he did so. They were still on a mattress in a corner of the cafeteria. Since the bunker was underground he couldn't tell if it was day or night. Judging from how hungry he was -- and how badly he had to pee -- Scott figured he'd been out for a long while.
After making sure that Ami was stable and sleeping soundly, Scott stiffly got to his feet. "Good morning," someone said.
[Jon] Can't talk. Eating. (open tag)
He loaded his plate as high as he dared and grabbed a mug of glorious coffee, before turning to find a seat near Scott and other early(ish) risers. A night on real mattresses seemed to have done everyone a world of good, even if they weren't quite up to scratch yet.
"Are you sure you've got enough there?" Pierson sounded amused. "Caffeine could stunt your growth."
"That's what the heart attack's for. I've got all the essential food groups here and, if you don't mind," Jon smirked, brandishing his knife and fork like weapons. "I'm on a 'see food' diet. Interrupt me at your own risk."
There didn't appear to be much objection from the rest of the table, all stuffing their faces like there was no tomorrow.
Bad analogy, Murphy. Just enjoy the cholestrol.
[McKay] Can't talk. Eating. (open tag)
Eggs.
Coffee.
Very little could tear Dr. Rodney McKay from his plate at that very moment. Having piled everything onto the plate, he found a spot at the table, not really caring exactly /where/ he sat before the food shoveling began. One bite, two, three, wash it down with a swallow of coffee and repeat. One would think he hadn't eaten for days.
"Pirate?" Not slowing down a bit, so that's spoken with no little food in his mouth, Rodney made a noise while holding up a finger, before grabbing at his coffee once more. Having once more swallowed a goodly amount, his expression turned long-suffering, and an exhale was given that could be considered on the dramatic side. Someone else to either watch out for, or keep an eye on, and he was betting on the latter rather than former.
"Mmmmm... could you pass the toast?"
OOC - Jack and Rodney
Re: OOC - Jack and Rodney
Perhaps he figured we wouldn't actually keep him?
Re: OOC - Jack and Rodney