peterjackson

The long plane ride back had been tense, because Karl couldn't bring himself to make lewd jokes as he usually did to take Sean's mind off flying. Instead, it had been Sean who'd soothed him this time, allowing Karl to cling to him like a child. They had been somewhere over the Indian Ocean when Karl cautiously tapped against the door in his mind that led to Middle Earth. He felt incredibly guilty about telling Éomer what the problem was, because he was reluctant to involve his shift in any more battles on behalf of his screwed up world. But he'd promised Théodred, which should teach him not to make promises.

When they showed up at Pete's, Karl was jet-lagged and cranky, having been home less than a day by the time they'd been told to show up at the meeting. He didn't want to be there, didn't want to recall the things that had happened in Otago, but they needed to know what they were up against. But he'd rather just go to bed with Sean and not come for air for the next month.

"Afternoon, Pete." Karl just barely managed to keep the surliness out of his voice. He knew that none of this was really Pete's fault but he wasn't in the mood to be mature about it.

"Could use a beer, mate."