CLOSED.

[the_house_rules]

Who: House and Martha Jones.
Where: Common room somewhere.
When: Tonight.
Warnings: Snark.

Comments

[thegooddrjones]

Martha had been wandering. She liked to wander, she liked to walk through the familiar corridor with steps that seemed too quick for such little legs. Long ago she had discovered set pathways, movements that took her past the places that she wished to go while avoiding the ones she used to avoid. It was funny, really, how there were less places that she felt the need to avoid now. So many people had left that corridors she'd once gone out of her way to avoid now held no stigma, and she didn't need to worry about the ghosts from the past that haunted her

[the_house_rules]

He'd heard footsteps, so he wasn't surprised when he heard the voice at the door. He caught the ball and shifted, looking up and over his shoulder in the direction of the door, his expression almost innocent. Almost, but not quite.

"Forty seven." No hesitation.

"When I try and keep going to forty eight, my alien hand gets angry and we fight," he looked absolutely, utterly the fuck serious.

"Never anger the hand," he said, holding up his left hand like a Lady GaGa claw.

[thegooddrjones]

"Forty-seven's rather impressive." Martha said quickly, but there was no trace of anything that could be like humoring him in her tone. She actually did mean it. When he mentioned the alien hand, Martha didn't doubt the serious look on his face. After all the things that she had seen in the last twelve months would have made this seem relatively normal even if she didn't have the pedigree of her travels with the doctor to rely on

[the_house_rules]

Wow. There was not even a hint that she didn't buy it. If his alien hand bullshit was taken as not strange enough to doubt the truth of, then this barge was weirder than he imagined. His eyes widened in surprise, perhaps in alarm, but the corners of his lips quirked up in the hint of a grin. Weird was good. Weird was better than being alone.

He decided, both because she appeared to be gullible, and also because he wanted to see what he could gain from pretending to be here against his will, that he would lead her to believe he was an inmate. He wondered how long he could make that last.

He didn't sit up, but reached out to shake her hand. "I'm House. So what are you in for?" he asked.

It was good. Subtle. It insinuated that, since he was asking, that he too was here against his will. In truth, he didn't need to ask. This was a prison ship, and she was smiling and welcoming him to what he imagined most inmates felt was a hellship. She was clearly the furthest thing from an inmate that could possibly exist.