Best-Laid Plans

[carter-i-am.livejournal.com]

John Crichton lay, snoringly unconscious on Liz Weir's bed in the now-joint room of #239/240.

Sam Carter regarded him with a grimace. This presented a problem. Jack had arranged for a party to happen in the newly-unified rooms, and John Crichton's drugged presence was not a good sign.

She was going to have to move him. And fast.

"What did Sergeant Mastoten say about the best-laid plans never surviving the first engagement with the enemy?" Sam muttered to herself.

Comments

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

*since he is not yet in another room, blow nose on Sam's shirt and some of the nose stuff falls to Elizabeth's carpet*

[carter-i-am.livejournal.com]

*smacks his ass*

[cameronmitchell.livejournal.com]

*wonders wy no one is smacking his unconscious ass*

[carter-i-am.livejournal.com]

[cameronmitchell.livejournal.com]

((*will try*))

[notcalledlizzie.livejournal.com]

*is on Kawalsky's side*

*and is out the door now :P*

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

*is sad for no more ruining Elizabeth's stuff*

[notcalledlizzie.livejournal.com]

*should be happy with the relief for his wallet*