I lol’d at the “what the fuck, V” so a snippet of that, please. Oh, and maybe the drunken Dany/Jorah :)
“What the fuck, V” was my first shot at trying to merge the prompts “Weevil and Veronica as exes meeting after years of not speaking or meeting at the ER”. Eventually I set it to the side and wrote Reestablished 2024 instead. I’ll let the snippet speak for the rest:
“What the fuck, V?” he demands as soon as the door closes behind them.
“Hello to you too,” she shakes her head, blinking, buying a moment to wrap her head around his presence here.
“You can cut the innocent act. I saw her chart when they brought her in. I can do basic math, you know.”
“I’d certainly hope so, what with the career choice. Didn’t know they were letting felons into medical school these days,” she can’t help sniping: old habits die hard.
“This big time podcast did a deep dive into a bunch of screwy cases that happened during Lamb’s time as sheriff, revealing all the incompetence and corruption. Turn out, that was enough to throw doubt on a bunch of convictions from that period and get them overturned, including yours truly’s.”
“Wow,” she says, genuinely surprised and happy for him, but also realizing just how long it has been since the last time she saw him.
“Enough about me, Veronica. You are worming your way out of talking about the fact that I just discovered we have a ten year old daughter, a daughter I knew nothing about until she showed up in the ER with a dislocated shoulder just now during what happened to be my shift.”
He’s right, of course. He’s right to be angry, just like Lilly will be when she finds out that her mom lied to her about her dad being dead.
She can almost hear the ghost of the first Lilly, the one she named her for, in her head. Wow, Veronica. I’m not sure whether you are more me or your mom right how. Either way, let me just say... yikes.
Drunken Dany/Jorah is from a happier post series timeline, and written from Tyrion’s POV:
Ser Jorah Mormont, formerly of Bear Island and now whatever it was he was to the Dragon Queen, was drunk. In truth, drunk was an understatement for his state. Not that her grace was anything resembling sober, Tyrion thought, as he watched them weave their way back towards the carriage the Martells had provided, Daenerys heavily leaning on the knight’s arm. This was the fourth vineyard that their hosts had escorted them to, and each was more than eager to prove to their new queen that the Dornish reputation for fine wines was well deserved.
For her part, Daenerys clearly understood that she couldn’t refuse their offers without causing offense, especially after she’d accepted one. Both she and Ser Jorah had tensed somewhat at the first, and Tyrion had worried he was about to have to smooth over an awkward situation, but then she’d accepted with all the regal grace he knew she was capable of.
It hadn’t taken him long to notice, though, that the queen’s flush very quickly became from more than the heat. The girl evidently hadn’t spent much time drinking and had little tolerance. By their second stop, he’d noticed Ser Jorah surreptitiously swapping his mostly empty glasses with her mostly full ones, an attempt to rescue her that soon had the knight in no better condition than his queen.
It would have been humorous, had it not been for Tyrion’s position as Daenerys’ Hand forcing him to think of potential scandals and what the smallfolk might think upon seeing her in this state. The Drunken Dragon was not a title that inspired confidence. Something would have to be done.
