Room 238, Sunday evening

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Aeryn spent her weekend in jail after shooting someone who deserved it, worrying about a possibly-suicidal boyfriend, also worrying that she had no way to contact anyone to check up on said boyfriend, and worrying that she or John might actually have had to go back with Scorpius because she has no idea how bad Peacekeeper Command never wants to hear the name John Crichton again. In short, the weekend's kind of sucked.

After being released by (and threatening) Braca, Aeryn heads back to the dorms, and up to 238. She's looking forward to spending some time in a place without bars.

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"Except I'm not sure he would have let you go," she says honestly.

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"I don't care," he says. "I want to kill him. I hope he dies slowly and painfully."

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From anyone but John, that probably wouldn't sound strange to her. But it's John. "You're not the only one. But the other you might have first shot at him."

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"I envy him then," John said, pouring some shampoo into his hand.

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"I wouldn't," Aeryn tells him. "He got tortured. I wouldn't want to see that for you even if that did mean you got to kill him."

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"Hm." He hadn't thought of that so he covers by starting to shampoo his hair.

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"Scorpius made it sound like it took them a while to find out what he'd done," she says. "Like we did something right."

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"Or I just went insane quicker," John says, ever the pessimist.

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"You didn't go insane," Aeryn tells him quickly. "I've never seen you act insane. At least, no more so than normal."

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"I got lucky then," he says, spiking his hair into a mohawk.

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Maybe he did. She makes a little face at his hair, trying not to smile.

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"What?" He does a little pose. "My hair's getting long again."

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"I noticed," she says, reaching up to try to flatten it a little, for no reason.

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"Hey hey," he says, batting her hands away. "My hair."

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"What if I don't like it like that?" she asks, getting the shampoo for herself.

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"Then it'll be gone when I wash the shampoo outta my hair," he tells her. "Patience."

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She makes a face at him and starts washing her own hair.

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

He makes a face back at her.

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"Very mature," she says, taking a while to scrub her hair because she hasn't been able to do so since Friday.

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"Shut up, jailbird," he taunts easily.

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"I've heard worse," she says, shrugging.

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"You didn't drop any soap while you were in there, did you?"

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She frowns. "What?"

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"Nothing," he says. He's so not explaining that to her. He just mohawks his hair some more.

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She gives him a weird look and goes to rinse her hair out before he can.