JULY INTRO MINGLE

[asgardmods]

Who: Newbies and anyone who wishes to greet them!
What: Getting used to the city
When: Days 474 and forward.
Where: Anywhere in town!
Rating: PG-13 tops! If it gets worse, move to a private log please.

[ Please include your location and the IC day (ex. Day 43 - this can be found in the schedule) in your top-level comment or your subject line when starting a thread! It can be any welcome hall, major attraction, or just out an about in any district. For newbies making a top-level thread, you may include your character's name/canon/house in your subject line if you'd like, to make housemates easy to find! :) If a God is needed or wanted, please ping the mods and depending on availability we might be able to throw them in where asked.

Also, keep an eye on the event schedule for July. If you're ICly introing during an event, make sure you take that into account. Thank you!

Have fun! ]

Comments

[hadbadays]

Oh. That's what he meant. Well ...

If John had a kid, he'd like the kid to be somewhat like Ellie. He can't quite go as far as to say that she sort of feels like one, because she has Joel. It's not something he's thought a lot about either, and so he finds himself floundering for a moment, mouth open as he searches for words.

"Important," he says, and drops his head for a moment. "We invited her over for Christmas dinner."

[seesobserves]

It's another one of those rug-pulled-out moments. Just when he thinks he's got a handle on what's happening...

"We had Christmas dinner," he murmurs. One of those things with drinks and people... Sherlock shakes his head.

"God's sakes." How long is he supposed to have been here? His right hand flutters restlessly at his side, as if he could shake off how ridiculous this all is.

[hadbadays]

"You found her first," he says, just to help along (meaning make things possibly more confusing). "You clicked somehow. You brought her to me to have a look at a zombie bite on her arm that hadn't infected her like it would have everyone else. And it went from there."

Now it seems she's pretty much family.

Honestly, John has no idea how that happened either.

[seesobserves]

Clicked. Somehow. Sherlock shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I need some time." What he really needs is sleep, and John might be able to hear it in his voice. In any case, he needs stillness -- space to process everything. He can afford it, now that he knows he's relatively safe. He makes his way toward the cot, intent on lying down.

[hadbadays]

John's first instinct is to say he's not done yet, even if he doesn't even know what else he could say. He's just ... annoyed, still. But then the tone in Sherlock's voice registers, and he stops himself with his mouth already open.

Oh.

He looks up at the ceiling, head tilting as far back as possible, and lets out a heavy breath. Then he just gestures at the cot, because Sherlock's already heading for it.

"Please, make yourself at home," he says, before he returns to his desk.

He'd take Sherlock to actual home home, but that seems like too much effort and, anyway, his shift isn't over yet. What does it matter where Sherlock rests?

[seesobserves]

Without his coat, the only thing he has to shed is the suit jacket and his shoes. Both get discarded at the edge of the cot, the jacket hanging off the edge, before Sherlock lies himself down on his back, presses his hands together under his chin.

For approximately the first fifteen minutes. John may turn back to look at some point not too long afterwards, to find Sherlock's hands have fallen and folded themselves over his clavicle instead, and his head has tipped just slightly to one side.

Everyone has their limits.