[Ephemera doesn't really know enough about Sweets to tell if this is normal or not. He makes a joke, regardless. Things are easier when you can laugh them off.]
It difficult to predict the Hadriel party scene, so that's understandable.
[Jokes are good, because drinking half a bottle of whiskey is definitely not normal for him. Although he's about to be serious again at that last comment--]
It could, actually, although I'm going to really hope it won't.
[Although that's why he's here and not at home, just in case he's needed for an emergency.]
[The liquor's free and the company is good, most of the time. Ephemera's even had civil conversations with Washington, of all people. They were tenuous and sharp, but they happened. He was even sober for them.
He sips his coffee, glancing at Sweets. His own coffee is brewed strong, but very sweet. Ephemera likes sugar. He takes advantage of it when he can.]
[Lance is, similarly, sipping at his own coffee, and it's always amazing how sometimes such small things can help so much. It isn't stopping his headache or the shakiness or exhaustion, but it's still somehow definitely making him feel a little better.
It's enough that he can manage to be even slightly convincing in his answer to Ephemera's question.]
I'm fine; everyone's just overworked here, right now, with everything going on.
[And it's not totally untrue; the clinic staff has very much been putting in overtime, not just in their normal jobs but in also making sure to protect the place and those in it. But Ephemera's right in that Lance's job in particular is difficult, and he's a little overwhelmed with the current situation. Still, he knew what he was signing up for and it's worth it, and he's not about to complain about it especially to someone he's been counseling.
Speaking of, and attempting to take back some control of the conversation--]
[It won’t. Or at least “easier” isn’t the right word. It will become familiar and certain things will become routine. Ephemera isn’t sure whether that’s good or not.
I'd rather be over-stressed than acclimate to that.
[He says it without hesitation, even if it's not judgemental; it's not like Ephemera's advice is bad, but it's not an option Lance is willing to go with. He's absolutely not going to go back to that frame of mind.
The questions earns a shrug from Lance too.]
I am. This is not official, formal therapy, so don't say anything you don't want me telling the first person I feel like gossiping with.
[It's a joke, obviously; he's not just going to go tell anyone anything. But this is definitely also not any sort of formal discussion, and so it still counts as taking the day off. Right? Right.]
[Ephemera just shrugs. Either Sweets will adapt or he won't. Hopefully he'll make the transitions as painlessly as possible. Ephemera doesn't know him well enough to offer help and doubts his brand of advice would be appreciated.
Strangely, Ephemera finds that he likes Sweets well enough.]
Cool.
[Just a conversation. Like they're actually friends instead of...whatever they are.
Ephemera drinks his coffee.]
Okay, I guess. No fights.
[He tips his head to the side.]
It's complicated, with Drake. Guess he told you about that.
[The no fights part, obviously. As for the Drake one--]
I can't disclose what he may or may not have told me, although I can say I'm not surprised things are complicated. Are they normal complicated, or is there something that's changed recently?
[And he'll take this opportunity to drink some more coffee.]
Normal complicated. I think? [Good god he has relationship drama. Ephemera still isn't sure how this happened. He shakes his head a little, a faint smile on his face.] Nothing's changed. I'm just. New. To this sort of thing.
[He's trying not to fuck it up. Could be going better.
But, in the end, it could be going a whole lot worse. He's got Drake. He's even got friends. Definitely an improvement over the shit that went down on Chorus.
Ephemera is quiet for a moment, drinking his coffee.]
You can tell me to fuck off if this isn't something you wanna get into. But that woman. I get her right?
[He doesn't know her name, but he remembers the way Sweets looked at her in the dream.]
[Lance is similarly focused on drinking his coffee during the silence, and it gives him a good way to--hopefully--hide that he goes briefly still at the question. He'd meant to send Ephemera a message about the drawing after he'd looked at it, but it had completely slipped his mind with all the other chaos.]
You did. Thank you; I... Really appreciate it.
[He means it. It's really nicely done, not just technically but in the feeling put into it.
And he's silent another few moments after that, before speaking again.]
Her name is Daisy. She's... We've known each other for about six years, and we've been together for most of that.
[Their relationship has been on and off, usually because of Lance, but they've still be friends the whole time. And now they're definitely back together, although Lance is pretty sure that's about to end for reasons outside of either of their control.]
[That hits Ephemera for entirely different reasons. He's quiet for a long moment, trying to compose himself. Daisy like the flower. It's a good name. And the woman in the dream looked like a good person. Her smile had been bright and kind. Ephemera imagines she's a good parent.
He looks away.]
I knew a Daisy. One of my squad.
[Crazy Daisy. Ephemera broke an officer's arm for calling her that, once. She's dead now.]
[Lance notices the silence and Ephemera's reaction, and he makes a mental note to bring it up later especially at Ephemera's actual response. But for now, he just nods; he's not a psychologist at the moment, after all.]
She is. She's really determined and enthusiastic about everything; nothing stops her, ever.
[And he hopes that won't change by having her whole life shaken, by suddenly facing being a single mother.]
[He was, very much so; everything had seemed so promising at home. Booth was back, the team was going to put an end to the conspiracy, and Lance and Daisy were going to start a family. Everything was falling into place, and then--
But that's how life is, and he tries to remind himself of that. Still, he has to take a moment to drink his coffee and use that as an opportunity to hide his expression, trying to make sure it's neutral again and his voice will be steady before he responds again.]
Have you met Dr. Brennan? Daisy is one of her students.
[There's a lot going on there on Sweets' face. Ephemera looks away, sipping his coffee. It's not his business. If the doc wants to talk about it, then he will.
[The mention of Brennan's book makes Lance brighten a little, and he offers a small grin.]
Her writing's pretty good. Entertaining, at least.
[Not exactly like, award-winning, deep stuff or anything, but still enjoyable. He'd never say that to her, though, at least not any part but the last bit.]
[Which isn't exactly how he met her, but he's not about to go into the partners counseling thing. Besides, this has been the truth of the matter for a long time now.]
I met Booth at the same time; he and Brennan had already been working together before that.
She wasn't initially, but she recognized how important her skills are to an investigation. A case is often made on the evidence that she and the rest of the scientists on her team discover.
[Along with some investigative work and some psychology, but he'll still give credit where it's due.]
[Ephemera doesn't remember his own trial very well. It'd consisted of a scowling UNSC officer reading off charges while he was handcuffed to an exam table and bleeding liberally all over the place.]
What kind of evidence?
[He pauses.]
Sorry if that's a stupid question, or something. It sounds interesting.
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dankmemes2017-11-06 11:06 am
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[Ephemera doesn't really know enough about Sweets to tell if this is normal or not. He makes a joke, regardless. Things are easier when you can laugh them off.]
A day off won't kill anybody, doc.
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[Jokes are good, because drinking half a bottle of whiskey is definitely not normal for him. Although he's about to be serious again at that last comment--]
It could, actually, although I'm going to really hope it won't.
[Although that's why he's here and not at home, just in case he's needed for an emergency.]
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[The liquor's free and the company is good, most of the time. Ephemera's even had civil conversations with Washington, of all people. They were tenuous and sharp, but they happened. He was even sober for them.
He sips his coffee, glancing at Sweets. His own coffee is brewed strong, but very sweet. Ephemera likes sugar. He takes advantage of it when he can.]
You doing okay, doc?
[He shrugs. Looks away.]
Seems like a tough job, is all.
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It's enough that he can manage to be even slightly convincing in his answer to Ephemera's question.]
I'm fine; everyone's just overworked here, right now, with everything going on.
[And it's not totally untrue; the clinic staff has very much been putting in overtime, not just in their normal jobs but in also making sure to protect the place and those in it. But Ephemera's right in that Lance's job in particular is difficult, and he's a little overwhelmed with the current situation. Still, he knew what he was signing up for and it's worth it, and he's not about to complain about it especially to someone he's been counseling.
Speaking of, and attempting to take back some control of the conversation--]
How have you been since we last spoke?
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[It won’t. Or at least “easier” isn’t the right word. It will become familiar and certain things will become routine. Ephemera isn’t sure whether that’s good or not.
He shrugs at the question.]
Thought you were talking the day off.
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[He says it without hesitation, even if it's not judgemental; it's not like Ephemera's advice is bad, but it's not an option Lance is willing to go with. He's absolutely not going to go back to that frame of mind.
The questions earns a shrug from Lance too.]
I am. This is not official, formal therapy, so don't say anything you don't want me telling the first person I feel like gossiping with.
[It's a joke, obviously; he's not just going to go tell anyone anything. But this is definitely also not any sort of formal discussion, and so it still counts as taking the day off. Right? Right.]
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Strangely, Ephemera finds that he likes Sweets well enough.]
Cool.
[Just a conversation. Like they're actually friends instead of...whatever they are.
Ephemera drinks his coffee.]
Okay, I guess. No fights.
[He tips his head to the side.]
It's complicated, with Drake. Guess he told you about that.
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[The no fights part, obviously. As for the Drake one--]
I can't disclose what he may or may not have told me, although I can say I'm not surprised things are complicated. Are they normal complicated, or is there something that's changed recently?
[And he'll take this opportunity to drink some more coffee.]
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That's understandable. I'm glad you've found someone.
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[He's trying not to fuck it up. Could be going better.
But, in the end, it could be going a whole lot worse. He's got Drake. He's even got friends. Definitely an improvement over the shit that went down on Chorus.
Ephemera is quiet for a moment, drinking his coffee.]
You can tell me to fuck off if this isn't something you wanna get into. But that woman. I get her right?
[He doesn't know her name, but he remembers the way Sweets looked at her in the dream.]
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You did. Thank you; I... Really appreciate it.
[He means it. It's really nicely done, not just technically but in the feeling put into it.
And he's silent another few moments after that, before speaking again.]
Her name is Daisy. She's... We've known each other for about six years, and we've been together for most of that.
[Their relationship has been on and off, usually because of Lance, but they've still be friends the whole time. And now they're definitely back together, although Lance is pretty sure that's about to end for reasons outside of either of their control.]
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He looks away.]
I knew a Daisy. One of my squad.
[Crazy Daisy. Ephemera broke an officer's arm for calling her that, once. She's dead now.]
She seems like a good person. Your Daisy.
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She is. She's really determined and enthusiastic about everything; nothing stops her, ever.
[And he hopes that won't change by having her whole life shaken, by suddenly facing being a single mother.]
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[In the dream, at least.]
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[He was, very much so; everything had seemed so promising at home. Booth was back, the team was going to put an end to the conspiracy, and Lance and Daisy were going to start a family. Everything was falling into place, and then--
But that's how life is, and he tries to remind himself of that. Still, he has to take a moment to drink his coffee and use that as an opportunity to hide his expression, trying to make sure it's neutral again and his voice will be steady before he responds again.]
Have you met Dr. Brennan? Daisy is one of her students.
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Life is just fucking complicated. Always.]
No shit? Huh.
[Ephemera tips his head to the side.]
I like her. I'm gonna read her book sometime.
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Her writing's pretty good. Entertaining, at least.
[Not exactly like, award-winning, deep stuff or anything, but still enjoyable. He'd never say that to her, though, at least not any part but the last bit.]
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Could use some entertainment around here. Plus it's been a while since I've read anything for fun.
[Possibly six years? Something like that. Ephemera huffs.]
Still can't believe she wrote it all out by hand.
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[But even then, it's amazing how quickly she wrote it at all let alone that had to do it by hand.]
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[That's for sure. Ephemera doesn't know Brennan that well, but he knows that's true. Woman is a force of nature.]
You known her for a while?
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[Which isn't exactly how he met her, but he's not about to go into the partners counseling thing. Besides, this has been the truth of the matter for a long time now.]
I met Booth at the same time; he and Brennan had already been working together before that.
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She didn't strike me as the law enforcement type.
[He's never met Booth, except in the dream.]
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[Along with some investigative work and some psychology, but he'll still give credit where it's due.]
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[Ephemera doesn't remember his own trial very well. It'd consisted of a scowling UNSC officer reading off charges while he was handcuffed to an exam table and bleeding liberally all over the place.]
What kind of evidence?
[He pauses.]
Sorry if that's a stupid question, or something. It sounds interesting.
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