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THE MOTHERFUCKING TEST DRIVE MEME RIDES AGAIN.

TEST DRIVE MEME

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[ well, that's it. that's all she wrote. he's gone and exploded, and there won't be anything left of earth in the whole universe. it's tragic, really. he wishes he'd had more time with his daughter, even of she was a little bit, well, terrible. maybe a chance to say goodbye to ford, or trillian, or even (though he wouldn't have appreciated it) marvin. but no, it's all too late. it had been a good life, odd but good, and now it's done. ]

[ it's funny, he always thought death would be a lot quieter. ]

[ and a lot less nauseating. ]

[ and less... blue. ]

[ on the floor of the tranquility medbay, arthur dent opens his eyes. well, there's no doubt about it. it must have been a thursday. ]

[ with the weariness and resignation of a man who has long since grown used to waking up unexpectedly aboard impossible spaceships, arthur gets to his feet. looks down at himself. looks around. ]

Sorry, does anybody happen to have a towel?

[ john's seen his fair share of bullshit, and the truth of that matter is that waking up in space goo in a room that supplies showers and towels is actually pretty damn classy by comparison.

he's also found that most times (well, sometimes), it's better to blend in when you're naked and unarmed, so he doesn't raise a fuss. he's dressed and on his way out when he notices the very naked and apparently very english man, and he stops in the process of towel drying his hair to toss the damp cloth at arthur's face. ]

There's more in the showers. [ there's a pause while he does up some of the straps on his vest (which there are quite a few of, thank you), and he takes in the rest of the room before turning his attention back to arthur. ]

Let me guess. Not your exit, either?

[ arthur reaches out and catches the towel with surprising dexterity — one doesn't simply spend a few years hunting one's own game with a prehistoric civilization without markedly improving one's hand-eye coordination — and uses it to first wipe off his face before tying it around his waist. ]

I wasn't even aware I was on the motorway, as it were.

[ he mutters it dryly, still looking around with his peripheral vision while ostensibly keeping his attention politely on the man conversing with him. ]

I suppose Ford must have stuck his Thumb out.

[ but there's no sign or the errant belgeteusian amongst the horde of the partially-clothed. or anybody else arthur had been with. ]

I'm afraid I'm not quite sure where I am.

[ hey, not bad. he wasn't expecting that. not that arthur doesn't look like the type to be quick on his feet, but - well. ]

Nice catch.

[ his brow creases in confusion at the mention of ford, because it's not a name he knows, but he's not exactly one to judge someone for a bit of rambling. he remembers it, but he doesn't comment. ]

Should be a tattoo on your arm with a matching locker. Whatever this place is, it was polite enough to give us our clothes back. [ the 'polite' is said in away that negates any compliment. either way, he's more distracted by arthur for the moment, eyes slightly narrowed in consideration. ]

You Sebacean?

[ arthur looks up from studying his forearm. really, he was a bit too old for a tattoo. ]

What? No, sorry, I'm Arthur.

[ wait, what. ]

An Arthur? What planet - [ oh wait that's a name. that's a... that's an earth name. he'd been thinking of the guy as english, but he also secretly thought of aeryn as australian. it's just one of those relateability things, right.

so now his eyes are narrowed in suspicion, and he sounds very, very dubious when he asks the next question. ]

Where are you from?

London.

[ he responds promptly, and then grimaces. ]

Which is on Earth. Was, sorry. Was on Earth. You probably haven't heard of it.

[ arthur dent, hipster hitch-hiker. ]

[ there's a delay in which john probably looks more angry than anything, but then he closes the gap between them and embraces arthur in a very firm hug that may involve lifting him off the floor an inch or two. he releases him a second later, hands going to his shoulders instead, and now he's smiling instead of looking scary.

actually no, he might still look scary on account of wearing lots of leather and hugging a naked man, but whatever. ]

Sweet jesus, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. Well, not you specifically, but - Earth, man. Do you know how long it's been since I talked sports with someone who actually knew what the hell "football" meant?

[ arthur lets out a horrific choking squawk at being embraced, and it takes him a moment to realize he's not being strangled so much as suffocatingly crushed with affection. the buckles dig in awkwardly. after crichton sets him down, arthur coughs primly and straightens his towel. ]

[ another human. he's not sure how he feels about that. relieved, of course, but also... a little awkward. he's not sure he's very good at being an earthling any more. ]

Are you American? You sound American. So I'm not certain you know what football is.

[ that much, he remembers. ]

But it's very nice to meet you, I'm sure. How did you manage to escape Earth?

American. [ if he looks deliriously happy, it's because he never thought something so stupid could be so nostalgic. ] You called me an American-

[ john actually isn't so great at being an earthling anymore either, if you hadn't noticed. too much hanging out with eccentric aliens with no concept of personal space. but the last comment stops him up quickly, expression sobering. ]

Sorry, I think I still have some of that blue gunk stuck in my ears. I didn't escape anything, Earth was doing just fine when I left it. [ then, probably somewhat abruptly: ] What year is it?

[ arthur squints at him. ]

I don't really... know.

[ he's not even sure how old he is anymore. ]

I've been travelling a long time.

[ he looks down at his arms again, distracted from his story by virtue of his, well, being alive. ]

[ that is the absolute worst non-answer. john can sympathize, because fuck if he knows what year it is back home right now, but- ]

Okay, let's try that again. What year did you escape Earth?

[ he doesn't like the sound of that. he dislikes actually saying it even more, but he's not going to drop the idea of earth in the past tense so easily. ]

omg stop making me date h2g2 I refuse

dressinggown - 2013-03-25 18:49 (UTC) - Expand

[He often checks on the new arrivals; it's the nurse in him. The short man asking for a towel is handed a standard issue cloth just large enough to wrap around his waste]

Here. Showers are just past the lockers. Don't worry if you feel nauseous or forgetful, it's all part of waking up in the pods.

[ well. it's certainly a better welcome than he usually gets. he takes the towel and starts wiping of his face, making a brrr noise as he pays the goo off. ]

Right. Thanks. Do you — work here?

[ what he wants to ask is where the fuck am I but he's too polite. ]

You could say that. I'm a nurse and spend most time in the medbay, but I'm not crew. No one is.

[Rory looked the man over for any injury. Generally the pods took care of that, but one never knew]

You're on a ship in space that has brought other people from different worlds and time for a reason none of us can figure out.

[What a sorry welcome]

Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. What do I keep telling you?

No, look, I know.

[ he sounds exasperated, and totally unsurprised to hear ford. ]

Someone's taken all my clothes, if you hadn't noticed.

[ it's hard to miss. ]

Oh.

[Clearly, Ford had missed that.]

Well, at least you've got your priorities in order.

Unless of course one was to ask after a drinks trolley.

...Do I look like I know where there's a drinks trolley?

[looks wounded or affronted. Woundedly affronted.]

I don't discriminate! I keep an open mind. Don't make snap-judgments. I give the benefit of the doubt that anyone may know where's a drinks trolley.

I don't know how you can think of drinking at a time like this. We almost died, Ford!

Don't exaggerate*. We did die. Is there a better time to drink?

[*That word… I do not think it means what you think it means.]

[ arthur was so certain they were about to argue about their miraculous escape, and instead he stops panicking and squints in irritation. ]

Only, we're not dead, on account of being alive.

[ he gestures between them. ]

Well… yeah, okay, I mean, maybe. But it's all sugar down the plughole. Right? Think about it. This is the multiverse we're talking about. Like when we were blown through time, could be we were blown through dimensions. And isn't that a fair definition of death, in the end?

[ arthur thinks about it. (actually, he's mostly trying not to think about the similarly naked woman who's just been spat out two tubes over, and not thinking about something is a different beast entirely and takes far more effort. he damn near strains something.) ]

No.

[ he shakes his head, and goes to get them both towels from the helpful stack someone's left at the edge of the room. ]

(no subject)

hoopy_frood - 2013-04-01 03:13 (UTC) - Expand

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