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

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.

( he has to think about that one for a moment. he's always considered himself in relation to other people, acting as a response and not instigating anything. but that's not necessarily true, is it? the big, key decisions of his life have been selfish and impulsive. and for the most part, he doesn't regret them.

he settles one hand against his chin as he thinks. ) Guess the universe-- the multiverse? the realms?-- aren't big enough for everyone to just do whatever they'd like without butting heads. And sometimes that's to the good. If you don't break down that door, the world'll keep trying to ignore its best minds.

( it's complicated. once upon a time, he wanted nothing more than to practice medicine in a rural small town with a wife and a family, not bothering anyone. but how much would he have missed if he was still back in marietta? ) It's a strange game. You play your hand the best you can, but in the end you don't really even know the rules.

I suppose it'd take half the fun out of it if you knew how to play to win. But I've never been much for cards, with rules or without.

[She's not exactly smiling, but she certainly isn't frowning. Evy loves conversations like these--and at the moment, she's ravenous for any opportunity to talk about something higher-minded than how are you feeling and are you going to be all right.]

Do you know what's one of the nicest things about this place, actually? If I tell someone I know something, they believe me. There's never any question of insufficient field experience. [At this point, she's thinking aloud for her own benefit rather than his. Time to try and swing things around from her difficulties finding permanent employment to the greater subject at hand.] To borrow your metaphor--the hands we've been dealt here are stranger, but it feels like there are fewer rules involved.

( gender equality is not something he's ever had to think on, though in context it seems ridiculous to him. she's one of the smartest people he's met, and he can't imagine she'd be kept out of her field. it'd be something to ask carol and uhura about, he decides. they'd probably know for certain how much things had changed. )

I've got a friend, ( he says eventually, fondness coloring the words from the beginning, ) Who says that when the rules don't suit you, you just change the whole game to make it work.

He's a little overconfident, maybe. But his way usually works out.

Edited 2014-03-27 18:29 (UTC)

[Evy laughs--gently, kindly. Whoever this fellow is, she likes the cut of his jib.]

Overconfident or not, he sounds like he has...[And she searches for a satisfactory word.] Panache.

I wonder how we could apply that here in Asgard. Make ourselves a little more than--than mere pawns in the gods' game of chess. [As nice as some aspects of life in the city are, the encroaching giants aren't exactly pleasant.]

He's got something, alright. ( that's said with exasperation. )

I dunno, about that. There seem to be lots of people questioning them, but I don't know if it goes farther than that. I wouldn't want to participate in the war, at all, but that's easier said than done when the giants are knocking at our door.

So it is. [Even dying doesn't free one from noticing the fighting outside the city walls. She's been less engaged than usual, perhaps, but it never escapes her notice.]. It's a pity your friend isn't here, or we might take a lesson from him.

( he laughs and shakes his head. ) If he was here, we'd probably already be home free. Or at least he'd be doing his damnest to get us there.

But I think we're doing alright, all the same.

We've beaten back giants too often to be doing poorly.

[Evy falls quiet then, crumbling off a bit of her scone without actually eating it. When she speaks once more, she's graver.] Thank you for coming by today. I really do appreciate it.

( he offers her a smile that's at once sincere and a little sad. )

Anytime. It's the least I can do, really.

This place... it puts us in danger we shouldn't have to be in, and then leaves us to deal with the consequences, of that. I think it takes a great deal of spirit, or courage, or whatever you'd like to call it, to keep going after that.

So, what I mean to say is... ( he trails off, almost flustered, before continuing: ) I think you're very brave, Evelyn. And though I can't really do much to help you, with this, if there's anything you do need I trust you'll let me know.

That's--[she clears her throat]--it's kind of you to say. Thank you.

[She glances down again at her tea, a sort of of demureness that mostly serves to give her a moment to collect her thoughts. The thought of discussing it, discussing her feelings on it, still leaves her feeling sick, but at the same time...part of her wants to try.]

It's...it's maddening, really, all of it. I never minded being here before now, not really. But if I could go home--right now--I would. [She sighs.] I never thought dying would make me homesick. [And jumpy, and listless, and inclined to buy matches, or better yet, electric torches with batteries.] But it seems it has.

You might not think it, but I can see why it would. ( people want to die at home, don't they? in their own beds, surrounded by their own people. death is the unknown, and so going into it you'd want to feel safe and be surrounded by the familiar. he can understand that well enough. and maybe because he holds that particular preference, he'll never really understand the heroic types who want to go out in a blaze of glory.

there's a reason the system of death here is so alarming to him, an he could almost think of it as some kind of scolding. but he doesn't voice those thoughts now. ) You're still here, though. In more ways than one. And even if we'd be better off all at home, I'm glad this place works the way it does, this time.

So am I.

[She might have the uneasy feeling of camaraderie with Imhotep, but she's hardly a shambling corpse--and she'd like to keep it that way, thank you. One thing for which to be grateful to the gods of Asgard.]

There was a--a saying, I suppose you'd say, or perhaps an admonition--that I ran across at home. 'Death is only the beginning.' It ended up being true there...but it's truer here. Mere mortality doesn't stop any of us. [Evy can't bring herself to smile at the thought, but there is a sort of cold comfort to it.] It's only a matter of getting used to it.

...I s'pose. ( he wants to say that it isn't natural, that they shouldn't even have that chance. but saying that is the same as saying he wishes evelyn, or stiles, or countless other people he's met here had stayed dead. or that jim had. and that's a worse alternative. )

Guess it's just one more rule we've got to shove out the airlock.

[All question of nature aside, his terminology is unfamiliar. Evy frowns.]

'Airlock'?

It's a part of a spacecraft. A way of transporting people between two high-pressure environments.

...if the airlock opens when you're not connected to something else, you get sucked into space.

( he's had nightmares about that, probably. )

Oh--

[What a horrid way to go. She couldn't blame anyone for having nightmares about that.]

Well, it makes quite the vivid metaphor.

It's more of an expression. Like walking the plank.

I suppose so. Well--I'd hate to ruin tea with all this talk of death and airlocks. [Feelings time is over. Those feelings, anyway.] Were you always interested in becoming a doctor?

( he nods, accepting the shift without comment. )

My father was a doctor. So I spent the better part of my life saying I'd do anything else. ( he shakes his head, at himself. ) And then I ended up realizing there was nothing I'd rather do.

[She's smiling again, looking now like she's biting back a bit of laughter.] There's no escaping it, is there? My father was an Egyptologist.

Something about it being in the blood, is that right? ( he purses his lips, but that doesn't quite hide the smile. )

Were you always planning on going that route?

Got it in one. [She hesitates visibly for a moment before forging ahead.] Quite literally, in my case; my mother was Egyptian.

Well, when I was a little girl, I was convinced they might need me in Oz, so I oughtn't make too many plans for the future. [Evelyn Carnahan, secret heir to Ozma's throne.] But after a point...I suppose I always wanted to have reason to return to Egypt.

Some places just call you home, maybe. ( he nods, slowly piecing together all of this new information about her. )

That, or you end up in a fairy land like this one.

Perhaps we'll make a home of it yet. [She shrugs. That was going fairly well for her up until recently, in truth. Even now, she can't bring herself to hate the place, however much she despises her current situation.]

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