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Entry tags:
NCIS, work, etc.
OMG I LOVE ABBY. Have I mentioned this before? I should. I think I did. I also love Ziva and the new director. Ziva is an incredibly strong chick, without being Kate in any way, shape or form. And the new director--dude, the power struggle between her and Gibbs is very amusing.
This whole episode had a theme: Men Are Stupid. No, really, it did. Until the end when Tony's ass-checking-out abilities finally had a purpose. *snickers madly*
Abby has a FANBOY.
*glee*
Also? ZOMG. I know men like the geek they had.
Work is actually not as bad as I'd thought it'd be.
In other news:
Travis is the Cylon God.
And I keep listening to Invisible Sun, and thinking about Cylons as I drive past the 31st Street exit on my way home from work.
ETA: AAaaugh! I forgot. MASSIVELY PRETTY Lantis screenthingies: http://www.livejournal.com/community/iconsbycherry/4815.html
Sibling of ETA: Marvel women let loose some steam and storm the Vatican: http://www.livejournal.com/community/sages_of_chaos/3161410.html
This whole episode had a theme: Men Are Stupid. No, really, it did. Until the end when Tony's ass-checking-out abilities finally had a purpose. *snickers madly*
Abby has a FANBOY.
*glee*
Also? ZOMG. I know men like the geek they had.
Work is actually not as bad as I'd thought it'd be.
In other news:
Travis is the Cylon God.
And I keep listening to Invisible Sun, and thinking about Cylons as I drive past the 31st Street exit on my way home from work.
ETA: AAaaugh! I forgot. MASSIVELY PRETTY Lantis screenthingies: http://www.livejournal.com/community/iconsbycherry/4815.html
Sibling of ETA: Marvel women let loose some steam and storm the Vatican: http://www.livejournal.com/community/sages_of_chaos/3161410.html
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Which Travis? *snicker*
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And because the world is stupid, there are no Region 1 DVDs. Grrrr.
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WTF is up with Bellesario putting his son in every series he makes? First Mikey, and now Charles. Someone should tell that young man that the mustache must GO. And the super-short hair is not flattering.
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And Gibbs kissed her! So cute! Who can resist the Abby love?
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(Anonymous) 2005-10-26 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)-=-=-
War of the Worlds meets Galactica.
=-=-=
It wasn't a meeting she was expecting. A backwater planet, the native populace mostly suspicious of each other and space travelers. They'd been bred that way, from pure genetic stock that was slowly causing them to lose people in odd ways. Extra eyes. Split tongues. Genetic anomalies that put proof to the theory that in-breeding was a very bad idea.
Cally was stationed in a small tavern, on the edge of the zone. The clientele straddled the two sides of the coin: shifty, dark and suspicious populace; and the slightly richer, less suspicious spacers.
Mostly less suspicious.
Later, she would wonder if he'd deliberately let her see him. A flicker of movement near the back as she entered, her eyes drawn to the swirl of dark jacket and pale face. And the eye patch, of course.
Not something she would ever forget.
Avon had sent her there to meet an arms dealer. Something about cheap weapons crystals. Not that Cally understood why Liberator needed crystal when her store rooms were full of precious things. Especially not cheap crystals.
Still, she shouldn't have abandoned her role.
The flicker of movement came again, and she slipped sideways through the crowd, easily avoiding spacers and locals alike, until she came opposite the table he was sitting at.
"Do you want me to buy you a round?" His voice was as casually arrogant as it had always been.
"In payment for my torture, or just to amuse yourself?"
Travis tipped his head back, shrugged. "Either way, Blake still won."
"Did he?" The chair was easy to straddle, and she found herself perched on it, dark eyes watching him. "Somehow, I think both of you lost."
"Can't have everything." His drink was empty, the glass making a thunking sound as he set it down again. "Still, I'm surprised you're still following him. He hasn't set you down somewhere to sew dissent and discord, like a good little guerilla."
"Haven't been keeping up with the news, have you." Her hand yanked the glass from his reach. And she poured a measure from the bottle the waitress left probably hours before. It's woody and pale, the taste sharp at the back of her tongue.
"Blake never did like to exchange words."
"He prefered laser pulses," she agreed, pouring more.
The leather he's wearing under the dark robe creaks as he shifted. "So did I."
"And Lazon probes, mind-games, machines which produced electrical impulses to short-circuit the brain?"
"Those, too," he acknowledged, hand reaching for the bottle.
Cally pulled it from his reach, wondering why she was only mildly angry at the man who had once tortured her. "You failed, Blake failed, Avon is failing. Who's next, Travis?"
"Servalan?"
"We can always hope." Oddly in charity, she handed the bottle to him and raised the glass. "To that happy eventuality."
They drank.
"You're the arms dealer," she said as she set the glass down. Her eyes pin him to the chair.
"Yes."
"I don't think we'll be needing you, after all."
"Don't trust me, Cally?"
Standing, she tilted her head to the side, almost scornful. "Should I?"
He didn't bother answering. She didn't bother leaving money for the alcohol she'd drunk.
And some part of her wondered just when Travis's mania had broken.
-f-
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(Anonymous) 2005-10-29 01:47 am (UTC)(link)Too many light years run.
Cally ducks around a corner, listening to the federation troopers running past. Her breath comes quickly (quicker than it used to, but she's getting old), and she fights with it, slowing it until there's nothing in the night air but the stench from the alley beneath her feet.
"Fancy meeting you here."
Her blaster is in his face, "I always did like to surprise people."
"Still trying to rabble rouse?" Travis sneers, ignoring the barrel poking his nose.
Cally shrugs, "Something like that."
"Has the ennui, the endless idiocy gotten to you?"
"It got to you, didn't it?" She shoot back, absently lowering the gun. There's nothing to shoot, really.
"Blake's brand of rebellion was always a little... light."
"And yours was dark."
He shrugs, the movement silent now, and she wonders if he's wearing leather or something coarser. "Your turn to buy the drinks."
"Is it?"
"Why not?"
Cally shrugs, heading back the way she'd come. "I wasn't planning on buying any drinks."
"You're on your own then."
"Yes." One piece of information she'll give up. She isn't sure why she's letting him fall into step with her. Doesn't want to analyse it (yet) either.
They're both silent, and she listens to the rest of the city, trying to discern where the boots of the Federation guards are. Far away from the both of them.
"Ground troopers never were particularly smart," Travis offers.
"Did they have to be to massacre thousands?"
"No."
If he caught the dig at his own war crimes, he doesn't show it. They're silent again until she stops in front of the building she raided less than an hour before. "This is my stop."
"Returning to the scene of the crime?"
"I'm an honest citizen, coming to report a burglary."
Travis snorts, "You're as honest as Blake was complicated."
"Is," she corrects absently, abruptly deciding to postpone her visit.
"Oh, he's alive again is he?"
"Is he ever dead?"
"Possibly." He falls into stop as she starts off.
The silence is almost companionable. Although there's still a part of her screaming that this is the man who once tortured her, who sold out the human race--who failed so miserably, he is on this backwater planet, chatting up failed revolutionaries. "Travis--"
"So, I hear it was your turn to die, this time." He interrupts.
Cally snorts, "You buy the drink."
"First round," he challenges."
"And the second."
"You sure you're not a lightweight?"
"Vila's the lightweight."
"Yes. I suppose he was."
-f-
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