Captain Jack Sparrow (
all7seas) wrote in
lucetilogs2010-08-01 11:52 pm
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Everything was beautiful; nothing hurt.
Who:
gotmebones,
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.
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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.
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...
The chain wasn't a particularly long sort of chain, and not a particularly forgiving sort of chain, either.
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"OUCH! BUGGER THIS BUGGERING CHAIN! WHALE OIL! WHALE. OIL."
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"This is not going to work."
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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."
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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."
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...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.
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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.
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"Stop that."
LOL THAT ICON
In what was quickly turning into the arm equivalent of a three-legged race.
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"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.
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McCoy finally snapped and swung his free hand, possibly to shove his face in the other way, or pinch his nose until he stopped spreading germs everywhere. Either way, it would possibly end up with the two of them squabbling again and no step closer to the door.
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Childish, McCoy.
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"Ow! Goddamn it, let go!"
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This was really starting to hurt, damn it. Apparently in the future they practiced deadly nose holds to annoy their opponents into submission. Jack realized he'd have to fight a bit dirtier, so he twisted the wing. Hard.
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McCoy was a doctor, not a soldier and there was only so much brutal treatment he could withstand, which was why he let go and tried to writhe out of the pirate's grasp, before he ended up doing something stupid like snapping the feathers in half. He knew, from firsthand experience, that maiming those wings fucking hurt.
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"Blast it, doc! That hurt, it did. We'll get nowhere at this rate. Look--door's there, savvy? If we stay close enough together we should be able to reach her. Long's you don't trip me up that is."
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"You wouldn't perchance be able to reach my hip flask with your other hand, mate?"
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/keywords
XD
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Oh God help us all...
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It's gotta be Stockholm syndrome
It might be Stockholm syndrome
Is that your final diagnosis?
XD
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/is picturing an evil grin on Ash's face
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