Come tell me a story. Write me a poem. Or I'm glad to take requests, if you're more the listening sort. I'll be here all night. Keep me company for awhile.
Fitz can't deny the nature of his flirting - not at this time in the morning.
Fitz takes a drink of tea before carrying his mug over, dropping a kiss on the top of Maggie's head.
"I played a very sexy nurse on the radio, once. The Doctor is just his name, though he did get a medical degree from Edinburgh. In 1880. I believe in the importance of being professionally unemployed."
Maggie manages not to laugh at the idea of Fitz as a nurse, but only just
barely. She watches them both intently with a hint of mischief in her smile.
"Everyone I'm currently dating is a time traveler with more whimsy
than sense," Maggie laments into her tea, but she's smiling as she says it.
"Okay, that's not true, Iris has a lot of sense, she just has a lot
of everything else, too. She's a force of nature with a knack for fun. And
you have some sense buried deep under all the nonsense. At least enough to
predict when I'm hurting and take care of me."
"Ooh two blows. Accusing me of any sense and putting me next to Iris? Unfair."
He considers Jesus' question for a moment.
"A new answer for every day. Ixtrice, in the late 30th century. A time of peace, prosperity and cross-cultural exchange. Of every kind. There's a word market there, an exchange of books and poems and ideas that literally lights up ground the market is built on. You can go out in one of the riverboats - strike up a conversation without anyone thinking it's weird if you miss a reference or watch the world go by or join in one of the swimming games..."
"Please, I know how much you like Iris. But you have a point. Someone," Tim, specifically, back when he thought Iris would just want a fling and Maggie should enjoy the ride, "once compared me to a hearth fire and her to a forest fire. Iris isn't the sort of person anyone should compete with."
But then she'll soften at the picture he paints of that market, amusement fading away and just leaving affection in its wake.
"Exquisite," she says, quiet and warm. "I'd love to take you up on it, once you and Sweeney have both graduated."
"It's because I like her that I don't want any comparisons."
He shrugs at Jesus' question.
"I have no idea. A while, probably, but I've bounced back and forth a bit on top of the Barge's usually strangeness." He grins, between tea and the chance for dramatics, he's much more awake. "It's one of the problems that can come when cosmic powers just couldn't bear to see you die for real. Not everyone could handle it, probably, but I have great strength of spirit."
"You have great capacity for drama," Maggie notes with dry amusement,
before adding thoughtfully, "Longer than me for sure, which is a year and a
half now, but I don't think you've ever told me how much longer.
Have you had a permanent warden for any portion of that? I know being
unpaired doesn't eat at you the way it did Sweeney, but I worry. A
neverending rotation of temps rarely does anyone good."
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Fitz takes a drink of tea before carrying his mug over, dropping a kiss on the top of Maggie's head.
"I played a very sexy nurse on the radio, once. The Doctor is just his name, though he did get a medical degree from Edinburgh. In 1880. I believe in the importance of being professionally unemployed."
no subject
Maggie manages not to laugh at the idea of Fitz as a nurse, but only just barely. She watches them both intently with a hint of mischief in her smile.
"Everyone I'm currently dating is a time traveler with more whimsy than sense," Maggie laments into her tea, but she's smiling as she says it. "Okay, that's not true, Iris has a lot of sense, she just has a lot of everything else, too. She's a force of nature with a knack for fun. And you have some sense buried deep under all the nonsense. At least enough to predict when I'm hurting and take care of me."
no subject
no subject
"Ooh two blows. Accusing me of any sense and putting me next to Iris? Unfair."
He considers Jesus' question for a moment.
"A new answer for every day. Ixtrice, in the late 30th century. A time of peace, prosperity and cross-cultural exchange. Of every kind. There's a word market there, an exchange of books and poems and ideas that literally lights up ground the market is built on. You can go out in one of the riverboats - strike up a conversation without anyone thinking it's weird if you miss a reference or watch the world go by or join in one of the swimming games..."
no subject
But then she'll soften at the picture he paints of that market, amusement fading away and just leaving affection in its wake.
"Exquisite," she says, quiet and warm. "I'd love to take you up on it, once you and Sweeney have both graduated."
no subject
no subject
He shrugs at Jesus' question.
"I have no idea. A while, probably, but I've bounced back and forth a bit on top of the Barge's usually strangeness." He grins, between tea and the chance for dramatics, he's much more awake. "It's one of the problems that can come when cosmic powers just couldn't bear to see you die for real. Not everyone could handle it, probably, but I have great strength of spirit."
no subject
"You have great capacity for drama," Maggie notes with dry amusement, before adding thoughtfully, "Longer than me for sure, which is a year and a half now, but I don't think you've ever told me how much longer. Have you had a permanent warden for any portion of that? I know being unpaired doesn't eat at you the way it did Sweeney, but I worry. A neverending rotation of temps rarely does anyone good."