Paradise Lost
Nov. 17th, 2005 12:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kingandy posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
just_writing(Note: Contains one minor hint at the shape of a spoiler. For an episode that's two weeks away on UK terrestrial broadcast. Just so you know.)
"Okay," said Sawyer, "Who's the Professor?"
Jack thought for a moment. "Well, Michael's been building a lot of stuff. The irrigation, the raft. Yeah, I'd say Michael."
Sawyer leaned back, contemplating the fire. "I'll give you that one."
"Kate's turn," Jack announced. "Who's Ginger?"
"Oh now that's not fair," complained the lady in question. "We have a noticable lack of movie stars." At which Charlie, taking a swig of water, first choked, then cleared his throat. Ah-ha-hem.
"Okay, I guess ... rock star will do at a pinch," Kate agreed.
"Yes," said Charlie with a serious face. "Yes, that's exactly what I meant."
There was a further moment's quiet contemplation. Nobody mentioned hairy feet.
"Wait, if you're the rock star you can't be the millionaire," said Kate. "Who's our Mr Howell?"
Charlie threw a surly glance at Hurley, who threw it back. "Forget the millionaire," Charlie decided.
"So does that make me Mary-Ann?" Kate asked.
Hurley disagreed. "No, dude. Claire's Mary Ann."
"Why?" asked Charlie.
"Come on, man," drawled Sawyer, wiping airline brandy from his lips. "She's blonde, and ... you know."
"No, I don't know," said Charlie, slightly defensive. "I don't know this programme."
"She's southern. Way southern," agreed Hurley. Sawyer nodded, raising his miniature bottle in the larger man's general direction with one of his lopsided grins.
"Right, well." Charlie was not entirely certain that the sleeping girl's honour had not been impinged, but was unwilling to press the point. "Fun though this has been, I'm going to turn in. Night, all."
"Yeah, me too," Kate agreed. One by one the other castaways murmered their assent and headed away from the light. Soon only Jack and Sawyer were left, silently tending the fire.
There were two parts left to cast.
After a time Sawyer met Jack's eyes. "I'm the Skipper," he declared, thumbing his chest. His face was serious, but there was a hint of a grin, and the light of the fire did twinkle in his eye.
Jack smiled back. "Sure you are."
"Okay," said Sawyer, "Who's the Professor?"
Jack thought for a moment. "Well, Michael's been building a lot of stuff. The irrigation, the raft. Yeah, I'd say Michael."
Sawyer leaned back, contemplating the fire. "I'll give you that one."
"Kate's turn," Jack announced. "Who's Ginger?"
"Oh now that's not fair," complained the lady in question. "We have a noticable lack of movie stars." At which Charlie, taking a swig of water, first choked, then cleared his throat. Ah-ha-hem.
"Okay, I guess ... rock star will do at a pinch," Kate agreed.
"Yes," said Charlie with a serious face. "Yes, that's exactly what I meant."
There was a further moment's quiet contemplation. Nobody mentioned hairy feet.
"Wait, if you're the rock star you can't be the millionaire," said Kate. "Who's our Mr Howell?"
Charlie threw a surly glance at Hurley, who threw it back. "Forget the millionaire," Charlie decided.
"So does that make me Mary-Ann?" Kate asked.
Hurley disagreed. "No, dude. Claire's Mary Ann."
"Why?" asked Charlie.
"Come on, man," drawled Sawyer, wiping airline brandy from his lips. "She's blonde, and ... you know."
"No, I don't know," said Charlie, slightly defensive. "I don't know this programme."
"She's southern. Way southern," agreed Hurley. Sawyer nodded, raising his miniature bottle in the larger man's general direction with one of his lopsided grins.
"Right, well." Charlie was not entirely certain that the sleeping girl's honour had not been impinged, but was unwilling to press the point. "Fun though this has been, I'm going to turn in. Night, all."
"Yeah, me too," Kate agreed. One by one the other castaways murmered their assent and headed away from the light. Soon only Jack and Sawyer were left, silently tending the fire.
There were two parts left to cast.
After a time Sawyer met Jack's eyes. "I'm the Skipper," he declared, thumbing his chest. His face was serious, but there was a hint of a grin, and the light of the fire did twinkle in his eye.
Jack smiled back. "Sure you are."
