you came to me in peace.

[docwithablog]

[ Going out had been his idea, revenge for all the fast food they (read: Khan) had eaten last time. The other man hadn't objected, so here they are -- orders placed, appetizers just delivered to their small corner table (some kind of mousse with chunks of shrimp arranged on slices of cucumber, garnish, looks ridiculous and ridiculously expensive in equal measure) and the waitress with her brown ponytail disappearing into the kitchen, leaving them -- not quite to themselves in the quickly filling restaurant, but close enough. Seafood's a popular choice on a late Friday afternoon, apparently.

John raises an eyebrow at Khan across the table, reaching for his glass of white wine, ignoring the appetizers for now. Frankly, they resemble tiny, green flying saucers with fish bits more than anything. At least they were on the house. ]

You looked like something out of Back to the Future, honestly. Not sufficient sparkle to match Hollywood, but I'm sure you can tweak that.

Comments

[docwithablog]

[ Yes, good, the waitress is an eavesdropper, that much is obvious by the looks she shoots them before leaving them to their mains; she will undoubtedly return to the kitchen and gossip about the two complete nutters sitting at the corner table talking about space travel, he's sure, but John couldn't give less of a damn, because Khan sounds uncharacteristically animated by the implications, when he says that warping means traveling many times faster than the speed of light and relaxes back in his chair, losing some of his commanding presence -- not all of it, never all of it, but enough to emphasise the glimpse of excitement. He gets off on it, John realises, in his own way. The science, he likes it. Well, doesn't John Watson seem to have a bloody type?

He picks up his spoon and looks down at his bisque, really just a fancy word for thick soup, then glances back up at Khan, his head angled slightly to the side. The natural follow-up question, of course, would be... ]

How far has it taken them? [ In this world, his, they dream of Mars, don't they? Well, he imagines they've left Mars in the dust, where Khan comes from. ] Any parts of the universe left untouched?

[insuperiorstrength]

[ John catches on, as he's done so many times before - doubtlessly, he's observant enough to note the changes in Khan's body language and he wouldn't expect anything else from him; the man's a soldier and a doctor, if he couldn't read his surroundings, he'd be sorely misplaced on a battlefield. Khan looks his trout over for a moment, critically, before peeling off the charred skin and starting in on the meat, rosa-pink and nicely seasoned. It's good. Much better than that tiny bit of unfortunate experimentation they brought them before. When he speaks, he doesn't look up at John, though the raised eyebrow does not, indeed, relate to the trout: ]

You are aware that the observable universe measures around 93 billion light years in diameter? [ A look at John. There's a tint of humour here, and perhaps - perhaps - a little hint of mockery. He is perpetually smarter than you, after all. His voice softens slightly as he continues, going serious once again. ] No, it has not been explored in total, nor will it ever. But they are working on their own galaxy quite diligently.

[ He works through his trout systematically, from head to tail, eating measured and without haste. He doesn't take much enjoyment from the food, generally speaking, because food is energy and energy is necessary. ]

[docwithablog]

Nothing to work up an appetite in a man like being lectured on the immeasurability of the universe.

[ A chuckle as he shovels in the first spoonfuls of soup, the bisque strong and thick on his tongue, very flavoursome, hearty in the best of ways -- infinitely better than the appetizers, they were probably free for a reason, shit.

He catches the hint of mockery that Khan presents him with, because come on -- if John couldn't pinpoint mockery when it slaps him in the bloody face at this point, Sherlock hasn't trained him well enough and they all know how that partnership panned out in the long run. Well, relatively long run... A moment's pause and he pushes the inevitable sense of regret aside, focusing on the man before him, enjoying his fish with a raised eyebrow and a little bit of humour. Suits him, John thinks. Suits us.

Khan eats his fish with the same focus and -- what, strategy that he does everything else, from head to tail, measured bites, no hungry gobbling down. John has seen people eat neatly, mostly women, certainly, but still -- this is different, it's not for the sake of meticulousness, it's for the sake of efficiency, obviously. You eat your rations and don't leave rubbish behind, in the field. Yeah, John recognises the procedure. It's familiar, very much so. And welcome.

Going through his soup equally well-organized about the routine, he raises an eyebrow at Khan, challenging. ]

[insuperiorstrength]

[ Silence.

There's something very unique about the way John manages to balance shows of attitude with that all-important foundation of respect, born from years of living and breathing the concept of hierarchy. It's not altogether common amongst humans and Khan can't abide any relations without it; at best, human arrogance in itself annoys him. At worst, it makes him want to end people. But now, John changes his eating pattern very subtly, matching Khan's organised precision, falling into step beside him without question. There's a challenge in his raised eyebrow, of course.

Are you still keeping up?

He doesn't smile, but there's an amused glint in his eyes as he continues eating, silently. In a moment or two, he'll tell John about his last visit to Qo'noS. Give him something to think about, see whether he can't stretch his limits for geeky sci-fi another inch or two. ]