Deb just went back to a BBC Thursday night radio happy place...
grins
You deranged and wonderful girl!
Thanks, Plei. (And I'm glad to note that in light of your tagline, this really is a compliment. :) )
Makes me regret not seeing the show.
There will be DVDs, connie. You (Clovis? can I borrow the mind control ray, just for a minute? Thanks) will buy the DVDs.
I love that, Am.
Thanks, Lizard. (I feel your chemistry pain, I really do; alas, that's all I can do, as my chemistry isn't up to much).
Pretty much loving all the fic, really...the FF/HH bit, the pluperfect challenge
Thanks, smonster.
connie, all I can suggest is that you spend twice as long writing-- half of it on the new story, and the other half on the carnage. Not very helpful, am I? While I'm here: loving the V!Giles still. Like that you mentioned Dalton. Like the 'Buffy (and Spike) remember their superstrength when hugging' moment. And no, the rubbing of hands in evil glee is not surprising.
Thanks again Plei. Great stuff (please imagine this said w/ the nummiest Ewan accent possible)
And now I find that I was not lying to self, and that I really am going to bed. Otherwise, I'll fall aslpee at teh keahyg gbaaaaaa..............
Am-Chau, what fun!
Plei, Deb's right. You write Denisof's Wesley voice-perfect. It's so dead on I sometimes have to remind myself no, I didn't actually watch that on film. Just perfect.
connie, loving the vamp!Giles. And I'm a bad, bad beta. I purged my email files in a flurry of industry--did I send you feedback for Touch? 'Cause I can't find it if I did.
Plei, Deb's right. You write Denisof's Wesley voice-perfect. It's so dead on I sometimes have to remind myself no, I didn't actually watch that on film. Just perfect.
blushredux
Am, baby, is there more yet???
My HHGTTG and Firefly loving self is so completely thrilled by this, there are no words.
(signed, girl who gave her sister a towel for her 42nd birthday, and was somewhat irked when sister didn't get the ref.)
Am, baby, is there more yet???
As a matter of fact, there is. (There goes the 'shall I post yet or not?' debate out the window.)
- - -
Marvin trudged straight into the bridge, announced, “Visitors. Don’t thank me, it’s been incredibly boring,” and went to sit in the corner and rust.
The crew of the Serenity followed much more slowly—Mal first, hand resting casually on his gun; and then Jayne, not bothering to disguise his readiness to shoot.
The main reaction of the others was to gape: Kaylee at the strangely shaped walls and the banks of computers; Simon at the man in the centre of the room; Wash at the guidance systems. Even Jayne was gaping, although by dint of pointing a gun at whatever he was gaping at he managed to make it look quite menacing.
"Hi, guys," said Zaphod, scanning the faces as they filed in to see if he recognised any of them. Not that it would mean much if he didn't, of course. He hadn't recognised Arthur, and the wacky coincidences were still just under the surface.
"Who are you?" Mal asked, decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and that asking a man with two heads if he *actually* had two heads wouldn't be a good idea. This didn't, in his opinion, look good.
"I'm Zaphod Beeblebrox," Zaphod replied, in that special tone of voice that suggests that the speaker never has to explain any more about themselves because every knows the name.
"Mal Reyonds. This your ship?"
"Yes," said Zaphod.
"No," said the dark haired man. "He told me he stole it. By the way, my name's Arthur Dent."
Mal and Zoe exchanged glances. "Don't see as that's any of my business, then," Mal said. "Where are you next planning to make landfall?" Something about the fact that he and his crew were standing, when the other four were seated (and that they outnumbered the others) gave Mal the confidence to keep grilling this guy, despite the possibility that they'd all be thrown out an airlock just for being here.
Wherever here was.
The woman in the corner spoke up, and Mal recognised her voice as the one that had been broadcasting probability figures throughout the ship. "Somewhere in the Horsehead Nebula," she said, and then added, looking pointedly at River, "Don't touch that, please… no!"
River had, of course, pressed the button. "Infinite improbability!" she said, happily, as the ship started the whirr around them and the few points of light on the big bank of screens blurred to blackness.
"That's only going to confuse things more," groaned the ginger haired man who had so far been silent.
"I have to agree," Mal said, "even without bein' sure what it does. Can we perhaps make things less confusing by your telling us why we're here?"
"Who knows?" Ford replied. "I'm a reporter for the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and unless the Jatravartids are right and we're living in Arkleseizure's snot, I've no idea why we're here."
"Perhaps we should do proper introductions first, captain," Inara suggested. Her presence was evening up the gaping stakes some, as one of Zaphod's heads took time out to admire her.
He looked at her for a moment, considering, and then nodded. "Okay. Zaphod Beeblebrox, I'm Captain Malcom Reynolds, recently of Serenity; this is my first mate, Zoe; my pilot, Wash; my medic, Simon; his sister, River; the hired help, Jayne; my mechanic, Kaylee; and our passengers, Inara and Book."
Zaphod nodded one head, and tilted the other to get a better angle on Inara. "I'm Zaphod Beeblebrox, recently President of the Galaxy; this is Ford Prefect, my cousin; that's Trillian," the woman looked over her shoulder to nod at Mal and then went back to studying the number scrolling across one of the screen, "and that's Arthur Dent, also known as Monkeyman."
"Okay," Mal said. "That's introductions. Now, why have you brought us here? Have you got a job for us to do?"
Zaphod shook his left head slowly. "No, sorry. Trillian? How did they get here, exactly?"
"We picked them up, same as Ford and Arthur," Trillian replied without looking up. "They were floating free in space—their ship had just exploded—and the ship picked them up all on its own, while we were moving. A slightly lower probability this time, although still quite high. That's why we haven't met them before. Less coincidence to be accounted for."
(signed, girl who gave her sister a towel for her 42nd birthday, and was somewhat irked when sister didn't get the ref.)
Ah, but is she a hoopy frood?
He hadn't recognised Arthur, and the wacky coincidences were still just under the surface
(moaning with glee)
Plei, Roz makes a nice third in the Plei-Wesley-Voice love.
