necessary_child | (no subject)

(no subject)

Behind Sam's door there are, as predicted, several dozen very unpleasant people with guns. If they look like soldiers, then that's because they are - some kind of mercenary, anyway. Beyond them, they appear to be in some kind of laboratory or medical facility: everything's white and steel, with a prominent scent of disinfectant.

Sam, his normally expressive face hardened and almost blank, his jaw clenched, forcibly shoves them backwards with magic that sends them sprawling into each other like dominoes, moving them just far back enough to allow one of the other two to shut the door.

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"Don't you hate it when that happens at a crucial moment?" Sam remarks to no-one in particular, bringing a ceiling light crashing to the ground behind them in a shower of sparks.

"S'never happens to me. If my generator runs out of power, I can just generate the energy for it myself," Atton says, smugly, tossing several blasts around the room. Then to Jack, dejectedly: "You can't."

"Look, if I start spontaneously generating ammunition, I'll have a real problem with metal detectors," Jack says patiently.

Sam sniffs. "You humans - at least, I assume - have no imagination. Mind your head."

Jack would die awfully messily if that bed cannoned into his skull, after all, and Sam likes to discourage that kind of thing.

"Human, near-human, it's a grey area," Atton says.

"Ditto."

He says, ducking.

Hey, he likes his skull.

Sam likes Jack's skull, too! That's why he warned him.

He is kind that way.

Chain lightning strikes from one of the room's computers to the next: it's pretty, but the smell of burnt-out machines is not particularly pleasant.

"Anyone see anything else to destroy other than bringing down the ceiling?" Sam enquires.

If Jack's ducking, then Atton just has to climb up onto his back.

It would be rude not to.

...What?

"...Uh. Everything okay, Atton?"

Sam cracks up.

"What?" he asks, through laughter. "You're surprised that Atton jumped you?"

...In a manner of speaking.

"It seemed rude not to."

"Look, I know I'm irresistable and all, but aren't a) we kinda busy, and b) you involved with someone else?"

It's not nice to tease, Atton!

"When've either of those ever stopped you, Jack?" Sam demands, laughing. "Though I'm feeling kind of left out over here."

He'll be serious in a minute. Probably.

"S'not like that," Atton says. "But I need a noble steed, and Sam is too small - like a prawn."

Jack sighs, and hikes Atton into a more comfortable position, before standing up again.

"You're lucky my nobility extends this far."

It's not the only thing that does! >XD

(I'm terribly sorry.)

"I hate the pair of you," Sam announces, only a superhuman effort keeping him from giggling all over again.

Sadly, "I feel so alone."

"Quick, Sammy! Onto my back!"

"Okay, no. I think we're getting distracted from the real issue here!"

WHY HAS SO LITTLE EXPLODED SO FAR?

BECAUSE JACK IS CRUEL AND HATES FUN, THAT'S WHY.

Sam huffs, crossing his arms sulkily. "I think we're focusing pretty well on the issue that you are horrible!"

He does not like Jack at all sometimes, really he doesn't.

Forlornly: "Why are you so hateful, Jack?"

To Atton, over one shoulder, "I'll drop you, see if I don't."

"I'm pretty sure he said that to his last boyfriend, too," Sam observes to Atton.

"Truly, he is a horrible pangalactic American army-fetishist."

"I hate him," Atton says, sagely. "Because he's mean."

"Damn right. Now either shut up, or get off."

...Either definition will probably be fine.

"...From that angle?" Sam tilts his head consideringly.

"Well, it might be possible. He is flexible."