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

"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.

Not a good idea, Bones--you're tied to the man, remember? Unfortunately the shove overbalanced the pirate and Jack windmilled his one free arm rather uselessly for a bit until he plummeted backward toward the bar.

"HELP!"

Edited 2010-08-02 23:14 (UTC)

He had not thought that far yet... the problem with McCoy is that he often does not think things through to fruition; the scandal with the melvarian mud flea vaccination and the threat of his career with Starfleet ending very soon under Pike being a prime example. And the only thing he could do now was yank his wrist back again.

"Damn it... stand up straight!"

"OI! STOP DOING THAT!" Jack was righted, all right, and felt maliciously wronged on top of that. His wrist smarted from all the yanking and shoving, which is probably what motivated him to swing at McCoy with his free fist. It was, unfortunately, a rather wild swing; however, the pirate was not only dealing with Romulan Ale, but also with the fact that life as he knew it seemed to have suddenly stopped and launched itself into a terrifying alternate universe, and violent punching seemed to be the best response to this.

Despite being in such close proximity with the schizoaffective bastard, McCoy was fortunate enough not to end up being clobbered by that wild swing aimed at him as he decided to root around the things that Jack decided would not be of interest of him on the bar, hoping there would be something sharp enough to jolt the lock on his wrist free.

It was a good idea and more productive than playing tug-of-war with Jack, until the man in question swung at him. He looked up sharply as he felt that punch miss his head by inches and stared at him. "Did you just try and hit me?"

"Never. I will never bring you choice Malnosso booty ever. EVER. Again. Savvy?" Jack was trying not to panic, but panic felt right somehow. He grabbed the chain and began to try to yank the thing off his wrist again.

"What we need is a good solid blow to the chain, what will separate us, and then...So at the smithy?"

"I didn't even want any of it in the first place." McCoy countered the panic resentfully, his eagerness to keep to his own space threatened by each yank from Jack as he tried to get his own shackle off his wrist. He could not even cross his arms he thought, as he clicked his tongue and stared the other way huffily. Being tied to Jack was definitely not how he wanted to spend his first free day after a week of solid warfare.

"Fine the smithy... whatever, just get this damn thing off me."

Without waiting, Jack charged off toward the door.

...

The chain wasn't a particularly long sort of chain, and not a particularly forgiving sort of chain, either.

Which is exactly why McCoy ended up on the bar room floor after that abrupt, unspoken decision to set off toward the smithy from Jack made him lose his footing. Thankfully, his pride would be clawed back since the chain was not particularly a long sort of chain or forgiving one to anyone. A belated gift from the Malnosso.

There was something sort of epic about the velocity with which Jack was jerked backwards and sent hurtling to the floor alongside McCoy. If you tried to calculate this velocity in a physics equation, physics would oblige, but then physics would get maliciously creative and add far more oomph to the whole situation than was actually called for by the laws that govern the fixed properties of the universe.

"OUCH! BUGGER THIS BUGGERING CHAIN! WHALE OIL! WHALE. OIL."

Edited 2010-08-03 00:41 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject