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[highways]
They're going to New Mexico.
It may not be in his time, or even his universe - he won't know until he gets there, and he checks a few details - but they're going to New Mexico.
He can hardly sleep, the night before. He feels...wired. It's almost like he's had a few cups of coffee and a few bowls of the chocolate cereal that Bar tends to tempt him with now and again. He's got his bags already packed (the duffel and a backpack that Kate probably stole from Bill's closet or something) and he's ready to go. He and Kate went to the store earlier to grab anything that they needed.
(Even if it feels a bit strange to be traveling back to New Mexico without a weapon on his person, he has to deal.)
He wants to be there, now. But they're not leaving until tomorrow. It'll come soon enough.
If only he could sleep.
But he can't. He glances over at the small bedside table and spots the iPod that Kate left on the table, earbuds coiled loosely beside it. After a moment's hesitation, he grabs it, settles the buds in his ears, and hits the 'MENU' part of the clickwheel.
She told him how to use it, and after a minute or two of fiddling with the technique (and the volume) he's listening to the music. Skipping what he doesn't like - but most everything gets a chance - he makes his way through the list on 'shuffle'.
(Blissfully unaware of anything going on down the hall.)
Before he falls asleep, he decides to ask Kate about two artists: Elton John and Billy Idol.
----
The next morning finally comes and after a shower (and a breakfast that doesn't involve the smoke detector) they're on their way to the airport in Columbia.
Of course, since Bill has a truck, it means that their bags are riding in the bed and the three of them are sitting up in the cab. Bill's driving, of course - which means that Kate is in the middle and Doc on the right side.
He's trying to focus on the other occupants of the truck.
But the road and all the other vehicles on it...they're just interesting.
"So how long 'till we're there?"
Are we there yet, Bill?
It may not be in his time, or even his universe - he won't know until he gets there, and he checks a few details - but they're going to New Mexico.
He can hardly sleep, the night before. He feels...wired. It's almost like he's had a few cups of coffee and a few bowls of the chocolate cereal that Bar tends to tempt him with now and again. He's got his bags already packed (the duffel and a backpack that Kate probably stole from Bill's closet or something) and he's ready to go. He and Kate went to the store earlier to grab anything that they needed.
(Even if it feels a bit strange to be traveling back to New Mexico without a weapon on his person, he has to deal.)
He wants to be there, now. But they're not leaving until tomorrow. It'll come soon enough.
If only he could sleep.
But he can't. He glances over at the small bedside table and spots the iPod that Kate left on the table, earbuds coiled loosely beside it. After a moment's hesitation, he grabs it, settles the buds in his ears, and hits the 'MENU' part of the clickwheel.
She told him how to use it, and after a minute or two of fiddling with the technique (and the volume) he's listening to the music. Skipping what he doesn't like - but most everything gets a chance - he makes his way through the list on 'shuffle'.
(Blissfully unaware of anything going on down the hall.)
Before he falls asleep, he decides to ask Kate about two artists: Elton John and Billy Idol.
----
The next morning finally comes and after a shower (and a breakfast that doesn't involve the smoke detector) they're on their way to the airport in Columbia.
Of course, since Bill has a truck, it means that their bags are riding in the bed and the three of them are sitting up in the cab. Bill's driving, of course - which means that Kate is in the middle and Doc on the right side.
He's trying to focus on the other occupants of the truck.
But the road and all the other vehicles on it...they're just interesting.
"So how long 'till we're there?"
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"Elton John is all right," He allows. "I like his slower songs better'n the wild ones. Costumes are a bit much."
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The current song changes into commercials and a promise to be back after the break - Doc flips it to the next station in line. Bill's in luck, because it's country.
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"Is it the sequins? The ruffles? Or the feathers?"
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He shakes his head.
"When he performs in front of people he wears these really crazy outfits. Just... wild stuff."
He doesn't even know where to begin to describe it.
"Put it this way, I'd rather be a moose for Halloween than wear what this guy does."
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He mentally winces - there's a lady in the car.
"You were a good moose," Doc offers. "I mean...for a moose." He glances over at Bill. "You didn't trample anyone."
That's all he's got, really, on the moose-front.
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And then Kate's laughing as her eyes flick to an approaching sign; they're more than halfway to Columbia.
Matter-of-factly, "He was a lying moose."
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He laughs at Doc's attempts at being nice about the moose thing.
"I tried. Moose ain't the most graceful animals ever."
Especially after lots and lots of beer.
Glancing sideways at Kate he shakes his head.
"I was not."
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"Least you wasn't a prairie dog."
He mutters it quietly, shaking his head.
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A pause as she looks over, mostly swallowing a laugh.
"I'm sorry I missed that, Doc."
That, and seeing Bill in raccoon form.
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Switching his attention to Doc in the hopes of getting the subject off of him he laughs a little.
"I'm sure bein' a prairie dog wasn't all that bad, Doc."
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It wasn't all that bad, just...not the best.
He scratches the side of his jaw absently.
"I liked bein' a raven better, even if my throat was sore for a few days after."
Plus, Jack bought him booze.
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"Raven?"
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Smart enough not to ruin it by opening his mouth Bill keeps quiet and let's Doc do the talking and explaining.
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A beat.
"All I could say was 'Nevermore', and woke up in the rafters the next mornin' with a sore throat and a hangover, wearin' all black and missin' my boots."
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Paaaaaaaaause.
"Sometimes, I wonder if the Landlord's insane or just sadistic."
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"Real lucky," Bill smiles at Kate, then glances at her, a bit more serious, "just don't say that in the bar. Never know what might happen if someone hears."
He sometimes complains about how Kate doesn't have crazy things happen to her in Milliways like he does, but really he's glad for it and hopes her luck continues to hold.
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Doc stifles a yawn and turns his head, still waking up even though they've been on the road awhile and talking. He's comfortable up against the door.
"Who knows what'll happen with spring comin'."
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She has been luckier than he has, after all.
(Except when the Landlord trapped her while Bill was still in the hospital in August; she's still upset about that.)
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Grinning at Kate he bumps her lightly with his elbow.
"I'd appreciate it. I been doin' all right myself with avoidin' the crazy lately."
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I've had enough shit goin' on that no crazy is a damn good thing.
"And I just might. I was up pretty late last night, had a bit of trouble fallin' asleep," he says. But to ward off any concern, he explains. "Just nerves and bein' excited for today, nothin' bad."
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She has a nanosecond-long moment of panic at Doc's initial words -- but we were quiet ohgodmaybeheheardthephonefallandthought -- before she relaxes.
"Go ahead," she says, turning down the radio another notch. "We'll wake you up when we're close."
Half a beat and an inward facepalm.
"To the airport."
She clears her throat and glances at Bill, cheeks a little pink as she returns the nudge.
"I've noticed -- and no bleeding, either. You're on a roll."
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The moment passes and Bill is quite relieved that they got away with one.
Face flushed and grinning he nods to Kate.
"I been tryin'. Aside from the knock on the head yesterday mornin' I been stayin' away from bumps an' bruises, too."
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But there is something about being in the truck - maybe it's the engine noise or the tires against the concrete - that is making it hard to stay completely alert and focus. It's strange.
(But not unheard of.)
He doesn't fall asleep right away, but he does close his eyes and get comfortable.
"Still feel bad 'bout that smoke alarm contraption goin' off like it did."
The smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth might say otherwise.
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A half-smile is tugging at her lips, too, thanks to Doc's admission.
"But I am sorry about the smoke alarm."
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"Yeah, I can tell the two of you are just all sorts of broke up about it."
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