Fishing - [Risa; the Scotts]

[allmhadadh]

Fishing on the sea shore was virtually impossible for any number of reasons; the biggest being, of course, that they had several seriously pissed off dockhands who would probably have an eye out for them.  But another reason was that it was too busy and bustling for any such thing, and therefore any attempt at fishing would have to be made

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[allmhadadh]

Time wore on somewhat, at a relaxed and leisurely pace; the older Scott was very quiet. Scotty didn't know if he was asleep, or if he was just resting with his eyes closed, but either way he kept something of a silent guard on both the man and his fishing gear, and did his best to keep his head clear of the too many things that would crowd in if he let them

[haroldlee]

Harold wandered up to the pair by the water, hovering some feet away, suddenly very insecure about how to announce himself.

Um, hey? How's it going, man? Don't mind the bite marks?

Shit.

[allmhadadh]

Scotty had registered the approach from further away than a few feet, and once he had ascertained who it was, he'd smiled slightly to himself but didn't shout -- he didn't want to go disturbing the other Scott. But he looked up, then tipped his head to the side and eyed Harold with a grin. "Bad room service again?"

[haroldlee]

"Heh. Actually... pretty damn good room service this time." Harold cleared his throat, shaking his head, trying to stifle the big stupid grin he could feel taking over his face.

He motioned at the other Scott. "Voices down, huh?"

[allmhadadh]

"Aye." And he is keeping quiet; he gestures to the part of the large, flat rock on the other side of him from the older Scotty, an invitation for Harold to sit if he wanted. He just moves Perera's Theory out of the way, placing it back under a much smaller rock, and keeps the half-written/drawn Solution on his knees.

[haroldlee]

Muscles - and other body parts - on fire, Harold grit his teeth and settled his battered body on the rock. Eventually he decided on cross-legged; every position was agony, and that one seemed the most dignified.

"What're you working on?" He whispered, extending a finger at Scotty's paper.

[allmhadadh]

"Just copyin' down old stuff." Not quite a whisper, but close. He looked down at the paperwork for a moment; it was a very good way to keep his brain active and not trying to untangle its far too tangled up thought processes right now. "How are ye?"

[haroldlee]

Harold's face lit up at that question.

"Never been so lost in my whole life, man."

There was no unhappiness in the statement.

"You?"

[allmhadadh]

He chuckled, quietly, shaking his head. "Still breathin'." He could get what Harold meant, though. He was in all kinds of uncharted (often anxiety-filled) waters, but he thought he was probably in a better place than he had been the day before. Time'd tell, either way. For now, there was... well, now.

[haroldlee]

"Good, good. Breathing's great."

Harold honestly couldn't figure out what else to say, but he got the odd feeling that he didn't have to. He tried to relax as best he could, his muscles settling in to a sort of truce with the rest of him.

"Fish biting?"

[allmhadadh]

"Nae a one." He looked at the two silent, stilled fishing lines, then shook it off and went back to picking at copying down the Aberdeen Solution. Quiet was good.

[haroldlee]

Harold let him. The silence was nice, actually. He changed positions a few excruciating times before finally using his bag as a pillow and stretching out on the rock.

He hoped Scotty wouldn't mind if he slept a while, too.

[amplenacelles]

Scotty wasn't exactly certain how much time had passed--it felt conversely long and short, as he flitted between lazy consciousness and light slumber. Eventually though, something sufficient to awaken Scotty happened. At first, as he opened his eyes and focused on the peaceful, shining lake before him, he was unable to identify what it was. Reflexively, he glanced at his hip--but his communicator wasn't there.

"Aah," Scotty started and glanced drowsily at the younger Scott. Just as he opened his mouth to ask the time, the rod in his hands jerked sharply and Scotty realized what had awoken him.

With a short cry, half startled and half unaware of the sleeping Harold, Scotty gripped the pole and lurched forward. He gave the rented equipment a sharp tug and it bowed slightly before the line started scrolling. As if he'd completely forgotten the basic mechanics of a fishing pole, Scotty stared at it blankly for a couple of seconds before stopping the line with the reel and giving a sharp pull on the rod.

[allmhadadh]

Well, that was a fast way to pull his head out of engineering. He blinked, then quickly set his paperwork aside (under a rock) and got prepared to lend a hand if need be. Either to save the rented gear, or to make sure the other Scott didn't go flailing into water with predatory, Terran-eating fish the length of a man's arm.

In a split second, as the other Scott gave the rod a good yank, he envisioned one of these monsters flying back on the heavy test line and clobbering them. Not the best mental picture, that.

[haroldlee]

Harold shot upright, pretty much every part of his body screaming a firm fuck off at him. "Dude, what the hell seriously--"

Through bleary eyes he saw the elder Scotty struggling and it dawned on him what was happening. He scrambled to his feet.

"Oh, fuck, let me--"

[amplenacelles]

"Nae! Nae!" Scotty called as he fumbled for the reel and started to pull the line in. The fish tugged and Scotty scowled as he leaned his weight back, away from the water.

"Bloody fuckin' hell, s'at a shuttlecraft bitin this?" Scotty supplied hurriedly and fought the reel to pull the line. Distantly, he could see the disturbance on top of the water. He gave the rod a sharp tug and the fish leaped out of the water. Scotty's heart gave a sharp jolt at the massive shape and he glanced over his shoulder at the younger Scott and--was that...uh...not-Sulu...Harold?