"Nice rock," O'Neill complimented sarcastically, grimacing at the hard baked dirt of the plain. "Could use a little scrub brush though. Maybe a lake."
"I don't know," Methos said, looking around as Jacob quickly led everyone away from the Stargate. "Sorta reminds me of Mesopotamia after the collapse of the great city-states." He paused and whipped his head around, staring up at the darkening sky. "Twelve moons is a bit much though."
"Too bright for skulking," O'Neill nodded as the Tok'ra stopped abruptly, waiting for everyone to gather into a tight group.
"Actually, I was thinking more about the poetry involved. Is one moon's face better than another for comparing a woman's features to, and would she get really angry if she didn't like that particular moon?"
O'Neill stared at him sideways. "Sometimes I wonder about you, Pierson."
"Really? What?"
--"Changing of the Guard III: Be All that You Can Be" by Ecolea (Stargate SG-1/Highlander: The Series)
"I'm going to an auction," he said. "Load of artefacts from some private collections, you know." He stopped for a cat that wasn't sure if it wanted to sit on the stoop or twine about his legs and kill him. "I still have a job to do."
Methos almost skipped. He could have been avoiding trash, but Joe preferred to think that Methos was so chipper at the mention of an auction that he couldn't contain his joy.
Because it was true. Methos was screamingly funny at auctions. Sometimes he amused himself by inventing false provenances for items in lecture format, talking people into over-bidding on a worthless item, and then skipping out before the lies were discovered. Other times he loudly trashed something so that he could bid on it in relative peace and win it at a lower price. In other cases, Joe had seen him nudge people's placards up without their knowledge, or in general just offer scathing and X-rated commentary from his seat, or in one case, heckle the auctioneer so badly that he had been asked to leave. He'd refused, politely, and then was no longer asked, but forcibly removed.
Methos called it 'performance art.'
-- "Everything to Bid, Everything to Lose" by amand_r (Highlander: The Series)
"Oh, and if Superman does get drunk, remember: I want the world to read about it on the pages of this newspaper."
"He won't get drunk, sir."
"I should hope not!" Graye exclaimed, all proper, but then he smiled. "Though it would make a ripping story!"
"He might get drunk some day," Lois inserted. "He's a real thrill seeker."
"Well, whatever he chooses to do in his spare time is his business," Perry said, "until he starts wearing lamp shades and tutus in public, then it becomes our business."
Everyone within a 25-foot radius of the Chief nodded vigorously.
Perry ignored them.
-- "Dawning 18" by Debby Stark (Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman)
"I'm surprised you need a diary, Doctor. You're always telling me how good your memory is. Superb, you said. Almost photographic, you said."
"I'm sure I've never said that. K9, have I ever..."
"Affirmative, Master."
Man's best friend, he thought. Man could keep it. "Ah, well, it's more of a paparazzi memory, really. Only photographic at inconvenient moments. And anyway, very handy thing to have around, a diary. You never know when you'll need to write down a splendid joke or get Cleopatra's autograph because certain people accuse you of name-dropping."
-- Romana and the Fourth Doctor, "At Last" by Doyle (Doctor Who)
Daniel slid down the hillside in his haste, almost knocking over an unsuspecting baby pine Jack had had his eye on all afternoon. "Hey, watch the shrub! That's my Christmas tree in a couple of years!" And of course, the archeologist just looked at him like he was nuts. "No, really. I have the mission proposal already worked out!"
Catching his breath, Daniel shook his head. "Right. 'Sir, I d like to go back to the potentially hostile planet and collect a Christmas tree.' Hammond'll go for that."
Jack grinned, pleased with himself. "Spoils of war."
-- "Hok'taur" by Reichenbach (Stargate SG-1/Doctor Who)
"Do you know who he blames for all of that awesome, amazing stuff you did yesterday? Me. Me, Sam! And don't get me wrong, I would love to be able to take credit for the sheer genius of The Glitter Incident," he paused to inhale here, "but NOT IF IT MEANS SPENDING FOUR HOURS CLEANING THAT GLITTER UP," he bellowed, and threw the cardboard box at Sam.
Sam blinked.
"LOOK AT ME!" Sock shrieked. "I'm covered in it!"
"It's true," Ben said bleakly.
"But Sock," Sam said, laughing a little, "You used to do that all the time in fifth period art class, remember? And then you would say, 'Look at me, I'm Tinkerbell!' and run around shoving people down stairs and telling them to think happy thoughts."
"This is different," Sock said coldly.
-- "Soulless Bastard" by onyourmark (Reaper)
She slipped behind him and began to knead the muscles of his shoulders with her thumbs. "All right, tiger," she ground out, affecting an odd and entirely unidentifiable accent. "You're the underdog in this ring; I ain't gonna lie. He's taller, heavier, stronger. He's got fists the size of a Christmas turkey and -- let's face the cold, hard facts here -- you're not exactly a spring chicken anymore. You're the underdog, all right, but the way I figure it, every dog has his day. He may be physically superior to you in every way, but you've got brains, kid. You've got brains and excellent hand-eye coordination, and I believe in you."
The Doctor paused, leaning back into her hands. "I'm confused. Am I a tiger, a chicken, a dog, or a baby goat?"
"You're a winner."
"Oh, right. Of course."
-- Rose and the 10th Doctor, "Fisticuffs" by rosa_acicularis (Doctor Who)
"Any good news? I'll take anything."
"Yes, but I need you to answer my next question honestly."
"I already know I'm going to regret this," she says in resignation, sitting back in her chair. "Hit me."
"Do you want to save the world?"
"Yes," she answers without hesitation, looking startled; most people do when they realize that they mean it. "I do, yeah."
"Then I suggest you pick up your sword and learn how to use it. This time, saving the world will be a group effort, and we need all the help we can get."
Alison sets down her cup. "That was actually pretty profound."
"I have my moments. I like to space them out," he explains. "Keep it fresh. Sometimes, I mix it up, throw in a few dead languages, it's--"
"Funny."
"Te pedicabo ut homo pulcher ovis vilis, the shepherd says to his lover," he intones. "I say, go forth and be fruitful, and please, think of the sheep. Or rather, don't, not like that. They can't possibly be enjoying it."
-- "A Thousand Lights in Space" by seperis (Supernatural)
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