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

McCoy sighed. He agreed with the sentiment of never wanting to be chained with this pirate and chose his words carefully: "Will you just... find something to use already? And don't use this as opportunity to slice me up or whatever."

Jack looked around. There were plenty of implements in the smithy--it would just take finding the right tool: the perfect chain-cutting instrument. There was a heavy hammer on a nearby anvil. The pirate smiled and spun rather elegantly around McCoy to disentangle himself; facing the doctor, he jerked a shoulder toward the tools.

"Shall we?"

"... Please don't smile like that..."

"Like what?"

"Like that." McCoy reiterated, perturbed by how happy he was. "Let's just get these damn things off."

"Right. Lay the chain here." And Jack carefully did this. "Now. Hit it."

McCoy rolled his eyes at him and grabbed one of the tools. With a surprisingly good precision, he whacks at the chain. "Come on, come on..."

The pirate kept his eyes trained on the doctor's face, rather than on the hammer that was landing alarmingly close to his wrist. He smiled. "Steady, lad."

"Don't see--" Whack! "-- how Scotty --" Bam! "-- complains all the time!"

Jack winced but held still; it wasn't that he didn't trust Bones. It was that the hammer was delivering bone-crushing blows so near to him. "Complains? You're doing fine, lad."

To his credit, he did manage to avoid hammering the pirate's fingers into the work desk and lowered the hammer to inspect his work. He gave the chain one almighty tug...

--And it broke free!

"Oi! Bonesy! Strong with a hammer, you!" Jack gratefully pulled away. The manacle was still clamped firm around his wrist, but at least there was more freedom of movement now. "Now, about these..."

Edited 2010-08-16 15:14 (UTC)

McCoy shook his wonderfully free wrist in flourish. Of course there was the matter of the manacles still fastened around their wrists, but he was happy to be unattached from the maddened pirate dancing around the smithy.

"Some kind of oil, maybe..."

"WHALE OIL!" Said like he was hitting upon an idea of sheer genius.

The doctor stared at him blankly.

"Extinct." He hissed through his teeth at him. "I was thinking something along the lines of cooking oil...?" Clearly he has never, ever had to escape from chains before.

"Any oil will do, really. Shops? Or a locksmith...?"

A locksmith would be less painful. Much, much less painful.

"Do you know any locksmiths?"

"....Might. Might know one." Jack thought as quickly as he could, swinging the broken bit of chain about as he did.

McCoy rolled his eyes at the annoying gesture: "Should we, Oh I don't know, go ask for their help instead of standing around here?"

Winry set down her tools and latest project upon hearing the voices. Quickly the girl left her work desk to meet the men bickering in the smithy.

"Excuse me, may I help you?"

Oh, this was embarrassing. "Well...yes? Our wrists, aye? Locked."

Luckily for McCoy, both of his hands were free so he could rub his face to hide his embarrassment at being caught in such a compromising position. "What... he said."

"You want me to fix that for you?"

She asked the question as she turned away from them. Not to be rude, but to start searching for a tool kit. The mechanic assumed the answer would be yes, and she had a few specialized tools from when she had fashioned a lock for The Batman.

"Actually, I'm growing a bit fond of it, myself," Jack began, but then he caught Bones's eye and shut up quickly. "Erm---Yes?" A few tools on the wall caught his attention, and he began to poke around with an eye out for anything stealable.

He held out his hand where the severed chain swung back and forth.

"Please."

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