[Action/Dictated ~ A Rest day

[atadiscoverer]

[Dr. Beckett is sitting on a couch in the lobby. He's not dressed in his lab coat, as usual, instead dressed causally, and looking a bit bored.]

Does anyone here know of any good fishing spots around here?

Or does anyone want to do something? I find myself a wee bit bored today. I'll be in the lobby.

Comments

[atadiscoverer]

Nah, I doubt I'd make a good king. I'm only a barely decent doctor after all.

[Understatement of the century, but you get the feeling that Carson means it.]

[shepherdsveritas]

Barely decent my arse. [Connor claps him on the shoulder] You've done a damn fuckin' fine job so far.

[When the next round comes he takes a sip and looks Carson over]

An' if y'put on one'a yer wee skirts y'could be Queen! [This is clearly the funniest thing he's said all night, he's laughing hysterically]

[atadiscoverer]

[Carson is about to respond when Connor makes that crack. He shoves the Irishman in the side.]

Aw, Gi'e over, ye wee bastard. At least we dinnae hae' tae fight the bloody sheep for room and women.

[shepherdsveritas]

[Connor laughs and shoves him right back. You're lucky that's his uninjured side, man.]

Oi! Fuck off y'fuckin' Jockie. Don' think we don' know why y'wear them kilts.

[atadiscoverer]

Oh, aye? Whysat, then?

[He folds his arms.]

C'mon. Enlighten me wi' ye vast intellect, Mr. McBulletmagnet.

[shepherdsveritas]

[He stands up, holding his hands about waist width apart in front of him and thrusting]

So's y'have easy access to th'sheep! [He LOSES it, laughing hysterically]

[atadiscoverer]

Aye? And I suppose your kilts are for an entirely different reason.

[He grins]

Unless ye tha' far from ye roots ye forgot that wee aspect. [He tuts.]

[shepherdsveritas]

[Connor thumps Carson on the back as he sits back down and picks up his pint]

Aye, 'least we don't still fuckin' wear 'em!

[atadiscoverer]

At least we aren't traitors to tradition. [Carson quips back immediately.]

[shepherdsveritas]

Fuck off traitors. If we're fuckin' traitors fer not wearin them faggy little skirts no more then that's fine by me.

[atadiscoverer]

[There's a delay in this retort as Carson stares at the half-pint he has left.]

At least my arse doesn't look big in everything.

[Yes, that is said rather sulkily.]

[shepherdsveritas]

[Connor's slightly beer fogged mind may have taken that statement a wee bit differently than it was intended.]

Oi! Are y'sayin' my ass is fat?

[atadiscoverer]

[Carson lazily tosses some peanuts at him.]

Aye. And y'ears need a decent cleanin', too.

[shepherdsveritas]

Fuck off. [He laughs and tosses some right back.]

[atadiscoverer]

Aye? An' what if I dinnae want tae?

[More peanut tossing. Real mature, guys.]

[shepherdsveritas]

Then I'll jus' hafta make ya then, won't I?

[Have a peanut to the forehead, Carson.]

[atadiscoverer]

An' who'll ye get tae patch ye up nex' time ye stumble into the clinic?

[shepherdsveritas]

Oi we didn't do too badly 'for we met you did we? [He chuckles]

[atadiscoverer]

Well, with the way the castle's actin', I wouldnae be surprised if we're in fer somethin' big...

[Always the pessimist.]

[shepherdsveritas]

Somethin' big, aye? [He takes a swig of his drink before pulling out a pack of cigarettes]

How big we talkin'?

[atadiscoverer]

Well, if it can make th' bloody sun go out, imagine what else it can bloody do.

[shepherdsveritas]

[He nearly spits out his beer]

Th'fuckin' sun went out?

[atadiscoverer]

Well it didnae rise f'the whole day on Frida' 13th.

Makin' bloody creakin' noises...

[shepherdsveritas]

That's not fuckin' right. [He pauses] Does th'castle usually do shite like that?

[atadiscoverer]

Did I ever tell y'bout bloody Paris?