sufferably | ( i've been working on a cocktail called grounds for divorce )

[Evy spends the day going out and replacing books she lost to the school fire. Her copies of the books she taught from were all in her office when it burned, and while she hasn't been back since that night, she doubts there's much left to them but ash. On her way home, she picks up some clotted cream and jam to go along with the scones Dr. McCoy offered to bring by for tea.

Of course, she usually takes tea at school--but there's no chance of that now, and she does have a little table and two chairs squeezed into her bedroom along with dozens of books and a cat who sometimes gets into fights with the mirror. It's a little cramped, perhaps, but she'd rather think of it as cozy.

By the time four-thirty comes around, the tea is steeping, the table is set, and Amewbis has been informed in no uncertain terms that he is to behave while they have a guest. Everything has come together quite well, considering.]

( he wasn't kidding about the scones. mccoy regularly commandeers the shared kitchens in sigyn for his own use, and tries to recreate foods he just can't acquire elsewhere in the city. it's an exercise in guessing and checking, mostly experimentation. but it's relaxing and cooking works the way it's supposed to, same as home. so at the end of it he has a rather nice batch of apricot-and-raspberry scones, loaded neatly onto a tray. he's rather proud of himself.

he works a long shift at the hospital most days, eager to be useful. so he's already had a long day when he arrives at evy's door. he knocks twice, politely, and then takes a step back to wait for her. )

[Evy's expression brightens noticeably when she opens the door. Of course, she was expecting him, but she's spent the day more contemplative than glad. Perhaps she's needed some proper human companionship ~~sorry, cat~~ more than she realized.]

Come in, come in. Those look marvelous--you didn't make them, did you?

Trade secret, I'm afraid. ( he says that cheekily as he walks inside. though it's obvious enough-- they're evenly made but a little lopsided in places, square cut but not artistic. he's got precise, surgeon's hands, which makes for little flair in these areas. he's all practicality. )

'Cides, my ancestors would turn over in their graves if I turned up for tea empty-handed.

I've never thought of Americans as being especially fond of tea. [She keeps her voice light as she shuts the door behind him, sticking a foot out to keep the cat from making a break for it. Talking of tea and scones seems manageable enough at that moment, more so than she'd expected.] The ones I've met always seem to prefer coffee.

I would never say no to good coffee, but I'm from Georgia. Sunday teas and lace gloves are still an institution down there, after all these centuries. ( his mother and his ex-wife were both of the debutante persuasion.

keeping the conversation light is easy enough to do, though he'll occasionally give her a long look, like he's trying to figure out if he's missing something. ) Anyway-- where can I put these down?

Then I shall have to start there if I ever take the grand tour of the States. [She smiles...but looks that say is there something else going on are more than she can tolerate at the moment; she'll glance away and hope she doesn't look obvious about it.]

Right here is fine. [She gestures at an empty place on the little table and takes a seat.] I hope you don't mind a bit of a break with tradition, as far as tea goes. I was in a mood for karkadé.

( he smiles a little with the pride of his home state, and then sets down his tray and takes a seat. he's never heard of that kind of tea, before, but he supposes nothing can be worse than spock's spiced vulcan tea. )

Can't say I've tried it before, but I can be adventurous. Every now and again, at least.

Good--I would make you some Earl Grey if you insisted, but you really ought to try this first.

[The tea is a deep, brilliant red, steaming hot as she pours it into the teacups. Just smelling it is like being back in Egypt for her.]

It doesn't go so well with cream, but there's sugar if you like. [She takes hers without, but it's rather tart that way. And since that's about the furthest she can manage to stretch tea talk, she changes the subject.] I didn't realize you cooked. Or--baked, I suppose.

( he just nods before reaching for said sugar. though he waits for distracting conversation, he'll eventually toss about three spoonfulls into his tea. the doctor has an incurable sweet tooth. )

I don't, really. Just know enough to get by. And while things here are good, all told, I've found myself missing some things from home.

( it's surprising, how you don't really forget things like that. two or three years on synthesized food and he still craves home-cooked pot pie. )

Guess anyone would feel the same, though. Are international teas your piece of home, then?

Egyptian teas. I couldn't care less about what the local practice is in Ceylon or China--not right now, anyway. [She smiles down at her cup, rueful.]

Which is to say, I suspect you aren't the only one who misses things from home. [At the moment, though, she's missing people more than things.] But--oh, I suppose if I'm dragging a piece of home around with me, it's ancient Egypt. All of it.

All of it? That must get heavy. ( he grins, then takes a sip of his tea. it's not like he imagined, but he does enjoy it. )

Funny, isn't it? That something ancient feels like home.

It does, sometimes. [She smiles back, a bit more subdued.] And it is--funny, I mean. But the pharaohs and the--the entire culture, I suppose...it was all as much part of my childhood as fairy stories and Father Christmas. And that makes it easy to come back to when I'm homesick.

[Except for lately, in these last few days. Evy falls silent for a moment or two; the subject's one that cuts just a little too close to the elephant in the room.] But what about you, Dr. McCoy--or, er, would you prefer Leonard? [He did call her Evelyn earlier, after all.] What else do you do when you miss home?

Whatever you prefer. ( he says, lifting both hands. anything but bones is kind of a given, though there are very few people who address him by his first name.

but he taps his chin with the knuckles of one hand and thinks about that. )

Honestly? I work a lot. Being able to do something that can be done anywhere helps. The cooking's a part of it, 'cause there's something about smells and tastes and memories. I guess I could see about riding a horse or rigging up some lights or something to make the place more familiar. But it's usually not so bad.

Leonard. [Repeated with a little smile. Anything but Bones? Entirely doable. Who would think to call the fellow Bones in the first place, really?]

I've missed riding, too. But in the middle of a city... [She shrugs.] Maybe the next time someone leads an expedition out of here, we'll have to demand horses. [Not camels. She's had her fill of camel-riding for at least another year.] Tell me some more about Georgia--if you don't mind.

Demand, huh? I'm sure the gods'll love that. ( or they might just ignore it. bones supposes it must be nice to have the option.

then he spreads his hands a bit and shrugs. ) Haven't been back in awhile, truth be told. But it's warm, most of the year, and downright hot in the summer. The house I grew up in had peach trees in the yard, and we'd pick them to make cobbler and preserves. The cities are as big as any you'll find up north or out west, but I always preferred the countryside. Small roads, small towns.

Edited 2014-03-26 14:59 (UTC)

It's worth a try. [She might be a little more inclined to try and make demands these days.]

It sounds lovely--that's the one drawback to England, how damp and cold winter gets. [Spending the winter holidays in Egypt is nearly always preferable, in her book. And then she smiles, just barely holding back a laugh as she reaches for one of the scones.] Oh, listen to me. I hope I haven't run out things to say aside from the weather in England; I'm not ready to be that much of an old maid.

The thought never crossed my mind. ( he assures her, smiling. thought it is something he's been thinking about, so he continues: ) It's usually the one thing everyone has in common, the world they come from. But here it's the biggest difference between everyone. We should probably be glad we both know about England and America and Earth.

Yes, we're lucky there. [Of course, get to a granular enough detail, and they might as well speak of different worlds entirely--but the grand details, they share those. If there's one thing she's learning from her stay in Asgard, it's how thoroughly some things stay the same, even when times and places change.] And you've got all the stars as well. So--are there other people out there? Civilizations on Mars and all that?

( it's still strange, to him, that people don't just know. first contact was well before his lifetime, and though marietta, georgia wasn't a beacon of diversity while he was growing up, aliens have always been normal to him. so his expression is rueful, when he says: ) Not on Mars, unless you count the colonies. We had to go a bit further out, and truth is they got to us before we got to them.

But, yeah. Lots of other civilizations, and species. Languages and sciences and god knows what else, all different for each kind of people.

It must be fascinating.

[She grew up with Percival Lowell's Martian canals and H.G. Wells' clash of human and alien forces--though, for the most part, she was more interested in girls' fiction and the occasional bits of fantasy. Imagining worlds beyond the solar system feels curiously theoretical; of course there must be more beyond the nearest planets, but it's unimaginably distant. And astronomy has never been her passion.]

Do you see many of them aboard ship? Or do you only work with humans?

Starfleet's technically Earth-based, but a good percent of officers aren't Terran. ( he thinks, ironically, that spock would know the exact number. ) Our First Officer is a Vulcan, and if you walked onto the bridge you'd see about a half dozen species among the crew there.

I'd say maybe a third of the Enterprise's crew is extraterrestrial. It keeps things, if not perfect, at least in some kinda perspective. We're going out and exploring and meeting new species, and heaven knows Terrans don't have the best track record with people they don't understand.

( it's one of the most jarring things about being amongst people largely from the past, now. he thinks back on those times of history and realizes, perhaps for the first time, how open his society is by comparison.

he tilts his head, and shrugs. ) It's an odd kinda thing. But that old tin can and all the people on it are home and family, for better or worse.

No, I'm afraid we don't.

[Not that she has any place saying so--she's a part of the problem, even if she doesn't think of herself as such--but she can point to plenty of historical situations where his words are true. Were they better acquainted, she might be willing to mention some of her own experience of never being quite English enough to pass muster in some situations. But thus far, she hasn't grown close enough to anyone to manage discussing that--perhaps another day.

As it is, she looks down at her tea, quiet some moments, and searches for something to answer with.]

It almost sounds like dress rehearsal for coming here. All sorts of people from places well beyond Earth, and all of you trying to keep things going without destroying each other in the process. [She glances up at him again, placidly.] It makes you luckier than the rest of us--you've got a bit more experience.

Or it means I never get a break. ( the response comes easily, with his particular dry humor. he doesn't really dislike people based on species, despite what his comments at spock would indicate. he actually thinks having people around with different abilities and perspectives is damn useful.

he swirls his tea around in his glass, a bit, observing the color. then he looks back up at her and raises his brows, as though he's questioning what he's about to say. ) People, with notable exceptions, are pretty much decent. Wherever they came from or whatever they are, otherwise. I think, even here, we're more inclined to work together than not. It's just a matter of rooting out the bad eggs, and making sure they can't do too much damage.

( it's foolish to say, considering the fire and considering what evelyn had suffered, for it. he takes another sip of his tea and purses his lips, as though he realizes that. ) What I mean to say is, it's easy to focus on the bad things. God knows I do enough of that. But that's not how we'll make it through this, probably.

I'd like to believe you're right--really, I would.

[They're...not talking about outer space any more, are they, Doctor? She holds his gaze steadily, considering her own words a bit more than she normally does. Evy's an impulsive woman, but she knows how to pick her sentiments carefully when she has to.]

And--oh, none of the 'would' nonsense, I really do think so. Most people just want to do...whatever it is they want to do...and be left alone. [She gestures vaguely at whatever--you know what she means, right, McCoy? It's true enough of her, when one really gets down to it--and from everything Leonard's said, she'd say the same of him.] The real problems show up when what they want gets in the way of what someone else wants. You want to heal a person, but someone else wants him dead. I want to be a scholar, and someone else wants his old boys' club to keep its 'no girls allowed' sign tacked on the door.

[The Medjai want mummies to stay immobile beneath the sand, Evy wants to read ancient curses out loud. See, it works both ways. She shrugs.] I think you're right, truly--but sometimes fate has a nasty way of undercutting what we do.

[day 423; action]

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