[Hello, Doctor, it's your roommate. Well, bathroommate. Still, however tenuous the connection, Fiona takes the issue of cohabitation seriously. The Doctor may find a note taped to the sink mirror, written in magic marker:]
Fiona's Bathroom Rules (semi-negotiable)
-No hard drugs. -No self-harm. -Knock first. -You break it, you replace it. -If you sweep and take out the trash, I'll clean the toilet and the tub. -Don't do anything weird to the toilet or the tub. -Aim.
I hereby agree: X______________ [And underneath the line for The Doctor to sign, there's her own signature: Fiona Gallagher.]
[Eight comes back fairly late that night, in his rare times when he's ever beyond "a little tipsy".
When he makes his way to the bathroom to throw cold water on his face he stops...and just stares for a moment. Rules? Were there rules there before and he just didn't notice? No, no, must be new. He didn't recognize the name "Fiona Gallagher".
All the rules seemed fine. Was she really expecting expecting him to do hard drugs in here? He had enough trouble handling his alcohol.
...aim? Aim wh-ooohhh. If he was sober, he'd blush.
Eight digs through his pockets for a pen and signs, then ambles his way to Fiona's room and knocks.]
[Fiona is busy staring at the cieling and imagining all the things that are going wrong in her absence. Yeah, she knows time is stopped or whatever, but it's hard to feel like that's true when it isn't stopped here.]
[Thank fuck for a visitor to distract her. She hops up, throws on some pajama pants, and opens the door.] Yeah? Oh, hi.
[Fiona knows what 'drunk' looks like (and smells like!) from years of experience, but this guy seems to be pulling his own pretty well, so good for him. But he's got be drunk; he even signed his name as 'The Doctor'.]
[Also, he appears to be... not American. Fiona's never met someone from another country before; it's kind of exciting.] Yeah, just got here a little while ago. You can just call me 'Fiona'.
Yeah, don't worry, I got the tour. [She gives him another once-over. Her gut says 'harmless', but that might just be because he's British.] You wanna sit down before you fall over?
[Fiona would just like an opportunity to size him up. If anyone's going to murder her in her bed, he'd have the easiest time of it, geographically speaking.] I've seen my share of drunks; don't take it personally. You're doing good. [She speaks with a fair amount of humor, despite everything.] How long you been here, uh... Doc?
[He's...an odd one to put on the safe/dangerous scale. Still, he doesn't seem overtly dangerous. Just hazy and a bit too prim and proper for his leather jacket, t-shirt and jeans.
He makes a bit of a face at 'Doc'.]
"Doctor" is fine, really. And I've been here...
[The calendar is rather different in Asgard, but Eight does some calculations in his head.]
Sixty-seven days, so about two months and a week, by your calendar.
Okay, Doc. [Fiona is fairly good at reading people, but this guy is a bit off her radar. Probably because he's English. British? Whatever.] Shit, you're a regular pro. Got any tips for rookies? [While she speaks, she busies herself getting him a glass of water, and some of the saltines she has stashed in a box by the window.]
Don't get too attached to anyone here, because they may disappear at any moment.
[Yes, that's a good impression to give the lady, Eight. Sullen, bitter rambling. He cuts himself off right there.]
Oh, and be aware that the gods may feel the urge to curse us now and then. Nothing dangerous, since they want us alive to colorize their grey city, but often either embarrassing or irritating.
The most important thing, though, is that death isn't permanent here. At least, not yet that I've found. In fact, I've died once. I still wouldn't recommend it, though. It may not be permanent, but it still feels like death, pain and all. I'm just warning you in case someone you know dies in front of you. It's still upsetting, of course, but they'll come back to you.
[This information is actually helpful, and coherently given, so Fiona listens intently while handing the man his water and his crackers. She opens the window, letting the night breeze in, while she fiddles with a cigarette, not lighting it. Hmm.] Sounds like you've been through some shit.
[Yes, thankfully this time around, he didn't have the stupid notion of doing shots with River Song. The woman can drink two of him under the table. And did!]
You could say that, yes.
[He chuckles and takes the water and crackers, sipping from the glass before continuing.]
From the rather relaxed way you're handling all this, I suppose you've been through a fair share of it yourself.
[Fiona can appreciate it when people don't dwell on their misfortunes. You get sad, get drunk (evidently), and you get over it. Circle of life.] Maybe. But usually it involved less paganism.
I dunno, I didn't exactly ask for his name and number while he was threatening to commit a felony. [But she takes note of the name, for future reference.] Sigyn and Freyr, huh? [Her pronunciation is horribly off.] You meet 'em in person, or do they mostly stick to the network?
From what I've been told, it's been a lot more frequent lately.
[He pauses and furrows his brows, working his memory past the alcohol.]
There was a battle two weeks ago, and then one about a month or so before that. Not every day, thank goodness. Just enough to not let us get too comfortable.
[Finally, he gives her a once-over and frowns in concern.]
You don't know much about fighting battles, do you?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Action...ish. 131 night.
Fiona's Bathroom Rules
(semi-negotiable)
-No hard drugs.
-No self-harm.
-Knock first.
-You break it, you replace it.
-If you sweep and take out the trash, I'll clean the toilet and the tub.
-Don't do anything weird to the toilet or the tub.
-Aim.
I hereby agree: X______________
[And underneath the line for The Doctor to sign, there's her own signature: Fiona Gallagher.]
(313 you mean? ;) )
When he makes his way to the bathroom to throw cold water on his face he stops...and just stares for a moment. Rules? Were there rules there before and he just didn't notice? No, no, must be new. He didn't recognize the name "Fiona Gallagher".
All the rules seemed fine. Was she really expecting expecting him to do hard drugs in here? He had enough trouble handling his alcohol.
...aim? Aim wh-ooohhh. If he was sober, he'd blush.
Eight digs through his pockets for a pen and signs, then ambles his way to Fiona's room and knocks.]
i'm so on top of things lately.
[Thank fuck for a visitor to distract her. She hops up, throws on some pajama pants, and opens the door.] Yeah? Oh, hi.
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Hello, Miss Gallagher! I signed your agreement.
I'm the Doctor, by the way. Well, one of them. I'm sure you'll meet the others soon enough.
I take it you're new here?
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[Also, he appears to be... not American. Fiona's never met someone from another country before; it's kind of exciting.] Yeah, just got here a little while ago. You can just call me 'Fiona'.
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Very well, Fiona. I'd say "Welcome to Asgard", but I'm sure you, like the rest of us, would rather not be here.
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Is it that obvious?
[He does manage to find a chair and settles into it, tilting his head.]
I'm ffffar less drunk than last time. Then again, last time someone had died, so I had an excuse.
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He makes a bit of a face at 'Doc'.]
"Doctor" is fine, really. And I've been here...
[The calendar is rather different in Asgard, but Eight does some calculations in his head.]
Sixty-seven days, so about two months and a week, by your calendar.
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[Yes, that's a good impression to give the lady, Eight. Sullen, bitter rambling. He cuts himself off right there.]
Oh, and be aware that the gods may feel the urge to curse us now and then. Nothing dangerous, since they want us alive to colorize their grey city, but often either embarrassing or irritating.
The most important thing, though, is that death isn't permanent here. At least, not yet that I've found. In fact, I've died once. I still wouldn't recommend it, though. It may not be permanent, but it still feels like death, pain and all. I'm just warning you in case someone you know dies in front of you. It's still upsetting, of course, but they'll come back to you.
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You could say that, yes.
[He chuckles and takes the water and crackers, sipping from the glass before continuing.]
From the rather relaxed way you're handling all this, I suppose you've been through a fair share of it yourself.
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Paganism? Wh- oh! Yes, the "gods". Not very godlike, are they? You'd think all-powerful beings wouldn't just lose their grip on us mere mortals.
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One threatened to rip off my head. Disappointingly old testament. [She laughs, and continues fiddling with that cigarette.] They always so... pissy?
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I have a feeling that was Fenris. He seems to have a fetish for eating people. I don't think Odin would let him eat any of the Travelers, though.
There are some that are quite kind. Our own patron, Sigyn, is pretty kind. Freyr is a good lad.
[Finally, he starts munching on one of the crackers. When he starts calling one of the gods "lad", it's time to sober up.]
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[He smirks and takes another bite of cracker.]
They normally are only on the network, though you'll see them around when there's a battle.
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[He pauses and furrows his brows, working his memory past the alcohol.]
There was a battle two weeks ago, and then one about a month or so before that. Not every day, thank goodness. Just enough to not let us get too comfortable.
[Finally, he gives her a once-over and frowns in concern.]
You don't know much about fighting battles, do you?
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omg that face!
Oh dear.
And what ability did they give you?
heeeee <3
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