Bloody hell, THIS place again?

[dent-panic.livejournal.com]

A few days after this unfortunate incident occured, a loud 'Thoomp' noise was heard in Spaceport Weini's debarkation area, and one rather bedraggled Mr. Arthur Dent was deposited directly in front of the baggage claim area. He did not arrive via the convenience of public transport, however, but instead seemed to emerge from a shimmering vortexy birdsnest-shaped portal gadget.

He did indeed land directly on his sorry ass.

Twelve seconds later the aforementioned Mr. Dent had scrambled to his feet, brushed his bathrobe back into its usual dilapidated state, and was striding towards the main concourse.

He would find that cursed hotel, patently refuse to pay his bill, give them a small piece of his mind and find a nice park bench to call home. He smiled in the knowledge that the in-house movie system would hold no future sway on his sanity, either.

Arthur held out litle hope that Uruviel might still be here on her vacation, but he couldn't help scanning the crowds for any sign of her. Hope springs eternal, even with the truly hopeless.

Comments

[uruviel.livejournal.com]

I found a nice guest at the hotel who listened to my story, grinned, and took me out for drinks. I didn't catch her name, but then, I think she only grabbed me so she had an excuse to drink, so that's fair. Still flying fairly high from the joy of being named godmother, I head back to the hotel, surprised to see a familiar figure.

"Arthur!" Before he can react, I have hugged him, clinging for far less time than I'd truly like, but mindful of his odd reactions to personal contact. "I've missed you! Have you been well?"

[dent-panic.livejournal.com]

"Uruviel??? I figured there was approximately one chance in 3,423 of finding you again!"

I'm being hugged, and then she stops. I don't want her to, and before I know it, I'm hugging her back. This seems to be a good thing. I think I'll keep doing this a while.

"Odd thing, though. One chance in 3,423 are probably the exact same odds I had of surviving what happened in my hotel room recently. But here I am. This is disconcerting. I don't suppose you heard about any airlock incidents in the hotel recently?"

[uruviel.livejournal.com]

"Accidents?" That sounds serious. Tilting my head back to look at his face, I frown. "Did you get pulled out of an airlock or something, Arthur?"

[dent-panic.livejournal.com]

"Well, pulled might not be the proper word. Compelled to comply with the laws of physics when the bloody thing flipped open right next to the wardrobe. The furniture felt the compulsion too, and I nearly was knocked out by a flying tea tray. Which was followed by a sofa. I've learned I'm a good ducker."

I realize I'm still in a partial hug, but this is safe and nice. Very unlike floating loose in a vacuum.

"As odds would have it though, it seems there's a Vogon constructor fleet working outside the spaceport installing a hyperspace traffic roundabout. One of the on-board chefs saw me careen past his portal window and had me beamed in. That's the good news. The bad news is he made me taste-test the dessert he was preparing. I was sick for a week. When I felt able to move again, he popped me back here. Just in time to miss the Vogon's roundtable poetry slam."

I pause, catching my breath, wondering how much of that made any sense at all to you.

"I. Um. Well. I missed you. Quite a bit, actually."

[uruviel.livejournal.com]

I'm not exactly sure I understand everything he's saying, but I do understand that he was pulled out an airlock, rescued, poisoned, and then returned in time to miss a poetry slam. I have heard of those, though never attended any myself.

The last part, however, is very clear. "I missed you, too." I slide my arm around his waist, turning him towards the bar/restaurant we've eaten at before. "Have you eaten anything since getting better?"

[dent-panic.livejournal.com]

"No, can't say as I have. My appetite hasn't felt too thrilled about the prospect of getting back on the job, really. But I suppose it should start reporting back to work."

I awkwardly manage to get an arm around her waist without ripping her outfit or bruising her, at least I hope I'm being more suave than that.

"I'll tell you what. I promise to eat something if you will too. Maybe you can recommend something nice and soothing. I remember your elvish wine was nice. Perhaps I could try some elvish food this time?"

[uruviel.livejournal.com]

"If they make it, that would be great." I lead him over to the door and let us get seated, although he doesn't seem to want to let go of my long enough to sit. We finally compromise by sliding into the same side of a booth, and I scan the menu for anything Elvish.

Success! I order something light-seeming but utterly satisfying along with miruvor, and settle back to wait, resting my head lightly on Arthur's shoulder. "Are you going to be all right?"

[dent-panic.livejournal.com]

"Well, let me think. I'm back in a breathable atmosphere, apparently safe and sound, and sitting with a beautiful woman who has her head on my shoulder."

Smiling, wondering what I've done to deserve a spot of good luck, I let my hand drift up to stroke Uruviel's hair. It's really quite soft.

"Yes, I think I'll be all right."

[uruviel.livejournal.com]

I laugh, letting him play with my hair. "I actually just got back myself. My boss, Jade, I told you about her, remember? She had her baby recently, and I went back to help her. She crushed my hand, but I got named one of the baby's godmothers, so that was nice. Her daughter's beautiful."

[dent-panic.livejournal.com]

"She crushed your hand?" I stare at your hands, but you hold your knife and fork easily, maybe elves recover quicker than the rest of us.

"You helped your boss with her new baby. What exactly are you? A secretary, personal assistant, nanny? I've just realized I don't know what it is you do back home."

"Are you sure your hand is okay?" I reach to take it, holding it carefully, then realizing I have no idea which hand was injured. I suppose I have a 50/50 chance of having guessed correctly.

[uruviel.livejournal.com]

"Well, not completely. But she squeezed quite hard. And I'm her personal secretary, though mostly I baked cookies. Jade's fond of cookies." I left him take my hand, careful to give him the one that was hurt. "It's fine, truly. Elves are very hard to severely hurt. We recover from a lot of things that would kill other creatures."

[dent-panic.livejournal.com]

"Hopefully you won't have to put that sturdy elven nature to a test on your vacation. Just avoid the airlocks, if you can."

I continue to cradle her hand in mine for a while, happily enjoying the moment. Then I notice her food's growing cold, and I quickly pick up her fork and set it in her grip, grinning foolishly and turning back to my own dinner.

"I miss cookies. I haven't had one since the Earth was destroyed."

[uruviel.livejournal.com]

"I'm sure they have cookies here. Do you like chocolate chip?" The food is excellent, as always, and I'm impressed as usual at the station's ability to so completely replicate things they should never even have heard of. But then, it's been a long time since I had proper Elvish food, so I'm definitely not going to complain.

"I could always ask if I could borrow a kitchen and make you some."

[dent-panic.livejournal.com]

"They seem to have any food imaginable here, I'm sure we could order cookies with no problem whatsoever. However. Your second idea is appealing.

I would love to watch you bake your famous chocolate chip cookies. I know I'd enjoy them much more than a plateful made by a middle aged short order cook named Louie."

[uruviel.livejournal.com]

I duck my head to hide my smile, but really, it's quite flattering. "Then we'll do that. But first, Arthur. Eat. I promise not to vanish if you take your eyes off of me." Another smile takes any sting out of my words, which are light-hearted anyway. Sipping my miruvor, I sit back against the seat, satisfied.