lucetilogs | Everything was beautiful; nothing hurt.

Everything was beautiful; nothing hurt.

Who:

lists_to_port, and anyone who wants to help them/laugh at them/take advantage of the situation/shake their heads in exasperation.
What: Irons. And Lots of Irony. (Yes, they get handcuffed together.)
When: 1 August, sometime nearish 3pm, after this.
Where: Good Spirits and perhaps around the village
Summary: Good God somebody help them.
Rating: Mothers Lock Up Your Daughters (PG+?)

After the unfortunate and highly accidental breakage of the medical thingy, Jack decided that the best thing to do would be to dump everything from his bag of booty onto the bar at Good Spirits so that McCoy--when he walked in angry--might be distracted by Interesting Junk. He tried to make two piles: Things of Interest to Bones, and Things of No Interest to Bones Whatsoever. There were sharp-looking scalpels and dull-looking scalpels and things that looked like they might be used to prod people's ears and other things that looked like they could be used to sew things like ears back onto the human body.

Into the other pile went some clockworkish items that Jack felt sure would be of interest to Donatello. He'd decided, somehow, that this turtle who was so intent on breaking through the barrier would need any help he could get, and if the pirate could do that by supplying random Malnosso technology, then he was more than willing to play that part.

The last thing he laid upon the bar--a set of iron manacles he'd swiped from one of the prison cells in the abandoned mountain structure--really could not be classified. He couldn't see Bones wanting them, and Donatello would definitely not want them and would in fact probably go off in a huff or something after even seeing them. So Jack ordered another tankard of ale and toyed with the metal handcuffs, wondering idly if he might reshape the iron and use it for fittings on his boat once she was finished.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

While Jack was making an admirable effort in keeping the peace in the extremely likelihood of avoiding another Slayer slap, the Things of Interest to Bones would most likely not manage to deter his indignation in wake of the broken ophthalmoscope, an item which Jack had discovered in the mountains and flaunted at the good doctor before intentionally (in his caffeine-motivated mind, anyway) destroying it. Despite his various gripes and embittered rants about how inferior and brutal twentieth century medicine was, he felt an odd sort of romanticism towards those rustic tools; why else would he have a collection mounted in his office back on the Enterprise?

So clearly, he had to teach the pirate a lesson and the schooling would happen -- again -- in the Good Spirits bar, as he reached his destination and none-too-gently opened the door and let the afternoon sunshine pour into the popular drinking spot. It did not take him long to find the familiar sight of the tricorne hat and the pirate it belonged to sifting through junk littered over the bar.

"Sparrow." His voice was sharp as he stormed over to the pirate in question and interrupted the peaceful process of sorting through junk and putting it into piles, his shoulders hitched in aggravation.

Jack looked up, the tone of voice and sight of the stressed-out doctor a not-unexpected sight.

"You," the pirate announced, pushing his half-empty bottle toward McCoy, "need a vacation, Bonesy. I could still bring you to see those penguins one day, mate."

The Bones Pile wasn't all that large, and it wasn't all junk, actually. A few things appeared to be in working order. He pushed it toward McCoy. "In the meantime, this'll give you somethin' with which to occupy your brain."

The For Donatello pile got swept back into the burlap sack Jack had found in the mountain building. Hopefully there'd be a chance to show it to the turtle soon.

The manacles sat twisted on the bar like a big metal question mark. Jack ordered another bottle of rum and toyed with the iron links, unsure of whether Bones was going to thank him or clock him off his bar stool.

"I've had a vacation, thanks." It was nothing short of a miracle that declaration managed to be articulated, since the doctor's teeth were clenched and it was obvious that he had zero interest in the half-bottle thrust at him at the moment, unless it had the distinct aroma of coffee or possessed the paralytic buzz of romulan ale. Jack Sparrow was right to be worried: McCoy was considering clocking him off his bar stool when an experimental sniff of the bottle revealed itself to be rum.

Fortunately for the both of them, a distraction in carrying out another assault at the bar came in the form of the junk he pushed towards him in the means of calming the man and his eyes landed on a shoddy, dust-ridden auriscope. He brushed his thumb over the device.

"Just where the hell did you find all this?"

"Already told you, doc--in the mountains. Malnosso abandoned a place there and the sage and I we found it, and went inside, and it were dark and creepy, which you'd likely appreciate as you're familiar with the inner workings of the human body, and they were lyin' about."

Jack decided not to mention the prison cells or the strange stains on the walls, mostly because he didn't really want to think about those at the moment. Why ruin a pleasant conversation?

Even thought Jack was trying to avoid the unpleasant turn conversation, the doctor managed to put two and two together and the result was less than pleasant.

"How would you think that I would appreciate a Goddamn prison?" McCoy asked with an arched eyebrow and put the auriscope back onto the counter and leant over the bar, beginning to root around for a shot glass. "I'm a doctor, not an architect."

The pirate winced. "Prisons are meant to be broken, lad---so there should be some respect for that, even from you." He helpfully handed the doctor a nearby shot glass and even more helpfully produced a bottle of some kind of clear blue liquid.

"Barkeep said you might enjoy this. Erm...'Romulan Ale'?"

McCoy stopped his fruitless search for the shot glass and eyed the bottle of clear, blue liquid being held up by the pirate. He was silent as he stared at the highly intoxicating drink and snatched it from Jack.

"This doesn't change anything." He warned him in a low tone, unscrewing the cap of the ale clumsily as he remembered what enticed him to the bar in the first place. "You still broke a priceless antique."

"Must be magic, the future. 'The Future': Magic-like place where No One Ever Accidentally Breaks Anything. If you miss it so much, doc, I'll find someone to magic it back together. Turtle could probably patch it up; magic, him, when it comes to the clockwork."

Jack put the bottle of rum aside and held out another shot glass to the doctor. "Been wantin' to try that stuff."

He pointedly ignored that description about the twenty-third century and whether or not this Donatello could fix it again. "I bet you have." McCoy replied sarcastically, not entirely eager to share the intoxicating beverage from the future

"C'mon, Bonesy, share the love, mate." The pirate shook the glass a bit and then slammed it down on the bar, ready to be filled. "Future's bright say you? Give us a taste, says I."

McCoy stared pointedly at him after that demand, shot glass and bottle of ale still clutched between his hands, his mouth twisted into a scowl as he slammed the glass on top of the counter and poured the ale into his glass, then Jack's.

"You won't be able to handle it," He commented as the glass filled with the odd blue liquid, challenging the pirate as his cantankerousness directed at Sparrow remained steadfast. "I guarantee you'll be on the floor in five minutes."

"You're on!" In about three seconds the glass was empty and Jack was clinging to the side of the bar.

A doctor's word is his bond, although he did want to believe that Jack would be able to handle something stronger than what he was accustomed to drinking. Only secretly though. If death was not enough to stop him pissing him off, then what could a little drink do?

... Apparently a lot as he spotted the dangerous sway from the pirate out of the corner of his eye. McCoy swigged his own shot, cringing as the drink burned its way down his throat, then stretched out his arm to grab the pirate and prevent him from sprawling all over the floor. He was vaguely aware of his wrist snagging on the various junk Jack had organized around the bar and the belated 'clink' worried him once he pulled Jack back onto his stool and raised his wrist. The shackles dangled annoyingly in front of his eyes and he threw down his arm angrily to the side.

"Oh, damn it..."

Edited 2010-08-02 21:54 (UTC)

Jack somehow managed to right himself, mostly due to the doctor's aid. It was really difficult, partly because of the drink, but mostly because of the almost-uncontrollable laughter at the sight of McCoy with the manacle attached to his wrist. He sputtered and slapped a hand on the bar.

"Oi! Didn't realize trapping Bones would be so easy! 'Oh, just set the trap on the bar there Jacky, and he'll put himself right in, like.' Ah! Ahahahahah!"

McCoy raised his arm and inspected the shackle fastened around his wrist closely, trying to ignore the pirate howling with laughter at his predicament. When he looked over irritably at the other man, he growled with frustration and waved his finger at the man as he delivered his warning.

"Unless you want this to get personal with your larynx, I suggest you shut up!" The tinkling of the old-fashioned Malnosso restraints did little to propel this threat over to its target as it swung back and forth with each agitated gesture from the wound-up doctor. He lowered his wrist and pulled on the shackle with his free hand in an attempt to slide it with ease off his wrist; an excursion that only succeeded in the iron chafing against his skin, judging by the steady stream of colourful swear words flying out of his mouth.

"... Goddamn it, get off you primitive piece of crap--!"

"Bones, clearly you've never had to get free when clapped in irons, when myself has had to do thus many a time in the past. Many a time. Watch a professional, lad." And Jack clapped the other side of the manacles around his own wrist.

"Now, attend..."

There followed grunting, and pulling, and smiling, and pulling, and straining, and "Bugger!", and pulling, and "OUCH!", and flailing, and more "Bugger!!"

"Erm......right. This? Not a problem, mate. Not a problem at all."

McCoy had a very strong retort for Jack after that boastful remark of escaping restraints multiple times in the past, but it was forgotten as he watched him clasp the other half around his wrist. His eyes widened and his face contorted with incredulity as the sound of iron snapping together rung in his ears.

"... What the hell did you do that for?!" He almost shouted at the other man once he had finished flailing, pulling his own arm back violently, glaring at the no-doubt stumbling pirate. "You.. you did this on purpose!"

Jack was jerked rather abruptly forward, but luckily Bones was there to break any possible falls.

"OI! Did NOT! Look, if we just had some whale oil..."

"The whales are extinct, you idiot!"

McCoy would not break any possible falls, consider he was not so good at these close encounters when aggravated and raised his arms to push him back.

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