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

"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)

It was a good thing the universe was cold, dark and silent (but still very un-good in the sense that it was riddled with disease and danger); McCoy would have gotten very agitated having to listen to how the law of physics changed for the split second Captain Sparrow was send hurtling backwards and onto the floor next to him as he tried to get up. His rant about the long-extinct mammals of the ocean did not help and the doctor sighed.

"This is not going to work."

((((THIS FOREVER AND EVER))))

Jack was known as a wily pirate who could bring ship and crew safely through a hurricane and who had seen many pub ceilings in his time from this very position. He tried to be circumspect.

"It would be easier if you hadn't gone and locked that particular wrist, Bonesy--as I don't think walking side by side will work. Chain's too short, savvy? And you seem to have a problem walking as a general rule."

Edited 2010-08-03 00:53 (UTC)

"Well, excuse me for getting my hand caught on your junk when you were about to fall off your stool, you bastard."

It was no secret that McCoy enjoyed putting emphasis on some words at somewhat inappropriate times. It seemed to be his equivalent of a stress ball, spitting out those words when engaged in a verbal spar, when he was deciding not to swing his fist into someone’s face.

"I don't have a problem with walking, I have a problem with you."

Edited 2010-08-03 00:59 (UTC)

"Both, lad," the pirate replied tiredly. "Why did it have to be you, eh? Do you realize I could be accidentally chained to a beautiful woman right now? That as we speak, Jack could be in heaven? But no.

...Only way, lad--only way is--hang on, we need to stand up, savvy?" He began to stand slowly, an act made difficult by the odd position their wrists were currently in. It was Jack's intention to demonstrate to the irate doctor that the only way they'd make it to the smithy was by either walking one man with the arm around the other, or with one man walking backwards the entire way. There'd be no other way to manage it.

Edited 2010-08-03 01:23 (UTC)

"Do you think I'm any happier about -- no wait, don't even answer that. I don't want to hear anything from you right now." McCoy waved him off with a wave of his blissfully free hand as he got to his feet. Cooperation would be the key here.

"Look, mate---if I bend my arm around you like this..."

Jack bent himself around McCoy's body in a rather intimate fashion, probably moreso than either of them were comfortable with, but this is called Pushing the Envelope of Awkward.
Do not attempt this at home, people.

Judging by the expression flickering across the good doctor's face, it was awkward. McCoy was, without a shadow of a doubt, uncomfortable with gesture as Jack began to snake around him but for his credit, he did fight the urge to shove the pirate away. There was no point in mangling both their wrists any more today and he pursued his lips together into a thin, aggravated line.

"Stop that."

"I can't bloody well stop this if we want to get out of here and over to the smithy, savvy?"

In what was quickly turning into the arm equivalent of a three-legged race.

"You're making this more difficult than it should be." The doctor insisted, feigning ignorance that he was being perfectly helpful during this whole situation.

Edited 2010-08-04 03:21 (UTC)

"Look, mate, there's a good chance that the entire bloody village will probably see us---best to act casual, shall we?" Jack moved around behind the doctor so that his chained arm wrapped around McCoy's back. It was still awkward, as he found himself leaning into Bones a bit just for lack of chain length. The pirate grunted in dismay. "Right. Casual, remember? And Buffy never hears about it, lad."

"Casual? I have a reputation to uphold; how the hell am I going to explain this one?" McCoy sighed heavily as Jack moved around his back with his usual swagger, the chain of the shackles clinking with each step as he attempted to adjust himself on the other side of the extremely dour doctor, who felt the chain rub uncomfortably against the scapular portion of his wings.

"I shouldn't have given you any ale," He remarked with a grimace, sharply feeling the shackles play havoc on those overly sensitive wings of his, "then maybe this never would have happened." And yet he felt that he was negative enough to accept this would have happened anyway, whether or not Jack had been felled by the drink or not. For his credit, he did not shove him away.

Jack, meanwhile, had to cope with McCoy's sensitive wings in his face. He sneezed several times, violently. "Your reputation will likely be improved by all this, actually. What of Captain Jack Sparrow? Man who can escape any given trap? Who has broken the most formidable stone fortresses of the world? Laughingstock, after this." He sighed and shook his head and sneezed several more times.

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LOL THAT ICON

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