Penelope Garcia (unmitigated) wrote in marinanova, @ 2013-06-11 12:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | jack harkness, penelope garcia, raven darkholme, spencer reid, spike, tyki mikk |
[Video//Action | Open]
[So they're back. And she's blonde again, which is somewhere between a relief and really freaky given Reid's theory about the whole thing. And as nice as it is to have laptops and bras and heels and makeup again, all is not well in the land of Penelope.]
[She never really had much hope that Derek would just ~poof~ be back now that the Great Tentacle Crisis of Whatever Year This Is was over, but she didn't think it would be this hard to not have him. Getting back to their apartment which is now hers with Korra and Asami is even rougher than being in that awful storm-dome with all the mandatory rock breaking, because everything here reminds her of him. Everything.]
[And Emily's officially gone, too. Just as an extra special bonus.]
[It's just not fair. And Garcia can't help but think she brought this on herself for getting too much, trying to have her gorgeous man-cake and eat it too. What's worse is that Derek was in such a state when he left, all silent and distant and uneasy, his smile forced and fake when he bothered to show it. They hadn't even gotten to spend their last time together happy.]
[She tried to spend some time chipping away at the firewalls, seeing if maybe there's a way to get her man and her boss and her buddy out of limbo, but her focus keeps waning and her frustration keeps building as she continues to get nowhere.]
[Nothing can really solve this for her, but there is one tried and true way to distract yourself from heartbreak. Garcia flicks on her comm.]
I dunno about anyone else, but I could really use some cheering up. And now that we have access to ways to do that, I'm thinking good drinks and terrible karaoke. Or good karaoke if that's your thing.
Just come and keep me company and we'll finagle the details as we go.
[And after that, she'll be at Lyrical, flipping through classic songs from the Good Old Days and throwing back drinks with the sort of raw efficiency reserved for someone determined to kill a few choice brain cells. She'll be here all night, folks.]
[Eh, someone or another will help her home.]