ataraxioff | THE MOTHERFUCKING TEST DRIVE MEME STRIKES BACK

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THE MOTHERFUCKING TEST DRIVE MEME STRIKES BACK

TEST DRIVE MEME

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[ Don't mind her -- or actually mind her taking a look at some random ass painting left there by Smiley. Her arms are folded across her chest, one eyebrow raised.

It's just a goddamn smiley but man. ] Vacations weren't supposed to include this kind of crap.

[ Nor were they supposed to include all the odd assortment of people she had run into earlier on, none of which really made any sense, but she'd put two and two together as time went by. ]

[ sherlock notices her staring, and he joins her. joins her in staring, anyway. he doesn't actually say anything for a while, crossing his arms over his chest, one hand lifting to rub idly at his mouth as he considers the painting.

there are a lot of things he could actually say, most of them hypothetically useful. he opts for something slightly less so. ]

I hope it's paid.

[ which makes no sense. he's alright with that, but he does actually clarify a second later, giving her a quick glance. ]

Your holiday. I imagine it might be somewhat extended.

[ It's actually only vaguely paid, but that's semantics she isn't getting into. Dealing with Mulder on a regular basis left little to no time to herself, and Scully ended up accumulating quite a bit of vacation time as a result of that.

She caught sight of Sherlock earlier on, but opted not to say anything; maybe it was the typical reaction of everyone here that the paintings on the wall would be something to talk about, but when no one else seemed to point or draw attention to it, she figured they must have been far too familiar with the scenery. ]

Somewhat. [ Her lips curl slightly into a smile, with the clarification needed - helpful actually. ] Although one could excuse this as another vacation on its own. Assuming it ends up permanent.

[ Shrugging, it's clear enough that the situation, permanent or not is still bothersome, no matter how much she'd rather avoid it. ]

[ he nods slightly, but it's more an autopilot reaction than anything, miming that he's paying attention to her as his focus shifts back to the wall. he's listening, of course, but it's small talk, and when he speaks up again it's somewhat abrupt. ]

Relocation. That would be a relocation, not a holiday. Technically.

[ and while small talk is fascinating (it's not), he's curious about something else entirely. the next question's a departure, and it's nosy, but he asks it as though he's talking about the weather. ]

Where were you last? Before waking up here.

Scully. I'm surprised at you. The FBI's finest never gets vacations.

[so-ooo much disapproval in that scolding.

and hey, here's Mulder, as if nothing is weird about meeting up in the corridor of an alien spacecraft. you spend enough time on the x files and you get used to waking up weird places, right?

--actually, no, that's not true. Mulder is excited. Mulder rarely gets excited. at most, he summons dry wit. right now, he is excited, and he is wearing rubber gloves, and he comes up right beside Scully so he can stare at the painting as well.]

This one's good. Did the welcome wagon give you a scalpel in your care package? All I got was a coupon booklet for Denny's. Expired. Figures.

[ Technically, Mulder's right. On the other hand, Scully's saved up enough days to get away from her partner in crime, because there's too many sunny days and not enough rice ice cream to enjoy in the drafty corner office she's grown accustomed too. ]

You have gloves.

[ She looks somewhat offended by that, eyes narrowed, but the lightness of her tone suggests otherwise. Two can play at this game. ] I got a flashlight and a suit that would make Catwoman proud.

[ And all the standard FBI equipment that comes with her, but that doesn't need to be announced. ] I doubt you could find a Denny's out in... come to think of it, I have no idea where we are. [ What with no windows at all. ] Short of a terrible attempt at graffiti if you ask me.

[he's half listening as he leans in to study the painting, chipping at it slightly with his thumb.]

It's better than graffiti. It's like primitive cave-art, less primitive--the Cave of Altamira as done by paranoid schizophrenics. On acid. You just gotta have an eye for it, Scully.

[a little more chipping at the paint, and now he's smiling at the wall.]

Catwoman. Me-yow.

[aaaand moving on, like he hadn't said anything:] Don't tell me they haven't told you where we're supposed to be.

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