((OOC - Goodness, I really love cadet!Scott. You're amazing. If there's any plot Kirk can help with, let me know. I mean that goes for anyone, but still.))
[[OOC: Well, if Jim wants to go sailing on Risa, he's welcome to look in on the brat. ;-) He'll probably be more friendly, since he now has some space.]]
Harold had fled after his disaster with Ensign Spottacus, jogging in a random direction. Thank god she hadn't followed. He felt geniunely sorry about it, he did, but he just couldn't stomache it.
No idea where he was and not even sure the PADD in his back pocket would work off-ship if he did need help, he'd taken to wandering the tourist shops.
Turns out, asshole shopkeepers didn't like it very much if you manhandled their stuff but had no money.
Lost, angry and still actually wearing the rumpled clothes he'd slept in, he headed toward the waterfront.
He thought he might be going crazy when he caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd. He latched onto the thought, desperate for something familiar.
Despite feeling like he had no particular right to it, the name still pulled him up in his walk towards the docks. He knew that voice, and looked around until he spotted a somewhat ragged-looking Harold; his expression softened a little, and he stepped back to the quieter edge of the boardwalk so the other fellow could catch up.
Harold jogged to catch up, and the knot in his stomach unwound slightly. As much as he couldn't deal with Spottacus, he didn't actually want to be alone. He couldn't take a crying woman at the best of times.
Scotty was the furthest thing from a crying woman he could think of, and a friendly face to boot.
"Will ye stop doin' that?" It wasn't a frustrated statement, more... somewhat good-natured exasperation. "Stop thankin' me." And he eyed the other man's somewhat disheveled appearance, eyebrows drawn a bit. "Ye a'right?"
Under the Table, Over the WaterallmhadadhAugust 9 2009, 18:25:55 UTC
It was a decent hike down to the docks. Towards the back was a mechanics shack, likely meant to be there for anyone having boat trouble to go and knock. Scotty intentionally placed himself a good bit of distance from that, and out on the docks way out into the water, to catch people before that happened
( ... )
Re: Under the Table, Over the WaterharoldleeAugust 9 2009, 18:46:13 UTC
Harold gave only passing thought to what Hikaru must have been doing at that moment.
The part of him in love hoped he was happy. That Pavel was taking care of him.
The part of Harold that was alone hated them both for having the other. It just wasn't fair.
Glancing at Scotty, Harold hoped the other man hadn't noticed his sniff. He wanted to bury it all for a while, bolstered by the tentative partnership of someone he was coming to think of as a friend.
People passing had thus far mostly ignored the pair, and Harold thought he could live without the evening's drinking if he had to; this was peaceful enough.
Re: Under the Table, Over the WaterallmhadadhAugust 9 2009, 18:49:24 UTC
He noticed; he didn't miss much. He was a sensory critter; he lived and breathed all five, and always had, and it could be both overwhelming and comforting, depending on the situation. So, when Harold sniffed, he slid a sidelong look over.
Regardless, he didn't ask. Just looked back down into the water, still keeping an ear out for the sounds of a mechanic needed. "Far... I mean, where are ye from? Before all o' this."
Re: Under the Table, Over the WaterharoldleeAugust 9 2009, 18:54:43 UTC
Head snapping up at the question, Harold had to give a moment's pause, looking into the water and fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
"Nowhere," he stated simply. It wasn't an answer, he knew, so he tried again, in a lighter tone. "Well, New Jersey. 2009. Which is fucking- nowhere. Nowhen."
He tugged at a loose thread and watched it unravel, detaching the hem. It was Hikaru's old shirt.
"What about you? I know neither of us got on that ship by exactly conventional means, man, but I kinda forgot to ask. Sorry."
Late AfternoonallmhadadhAugust 9 2009, 20:36:45 UTC
They hung around in the water for awhile, sloughing off for the time the heaviness of the universe in favor of just enjoying it. It was a good time, too; Scotty swam around the edges of the docks, not getting too far from his tools and such, but loosened up long enough to follow some neat little silvery fishes around for awhile, kind of fascinated by the way the all moved together
( ... )
Re: Late AfternoonallmhadadhAugust 9 2009, 20:45:11 UTC
"Sure." He wouldn't be picky. Long as they had enough credits, he was happy for the moment. He quickly counted the chips out, damp shirt slung over a shoulder, boots tied and likewise, socks rolled up and stuff into them. "We've got about thirty credits, all told, an' I dinna know the current value. But I'm guessin' it's enough for food."
Re: Late AfternoonharoldleeAugust 9 2009, 20:50:37 UTC
Food. Food was good. The day had actually made him hungry properly, the grief in him no longer threatening to reject whatever he ate.
He stopped collecting his things long enough to give Scotty a sidelong look. "I know you hate it, man, but - thanks. I still- um, you know. But this. This was - really, really good."
Spottacus walked into the bar. She looked lost. Scanning the room, she spotted the two men. Walking over, she sat down next to Scotty and poked him on the shoulder.
Re: Enter the SpotallmhadadhAugust 9 2009, 21:50:01 UTC
He jumped a little in surprise, but shook it off when he recognized the lass who'd helped him ditch security on the Enterprise... what seemed like a lifetime ago, now. And he offered a bit of a sheepish grin back. "Aye... I'm afraid I've forgotten yer name, though, lass." A wince. "Sorry. How's the wrist?"
Re: Enter the Spotensgn_spottacusAugust 9 2009, 21:54:06 UTC
She looked at Scotty. "Not sure I ever told you it," Spottacus grinned. "I'm Ensign Meira Spottacus."
She held up her wrist. "Almost completely healed. Still twinges a bit if I bump it but it's fine."
She glanced over at Harold. She felt bad for breaking down when she was supposed to be helping him. "Sorry about earlier, Harold. I shouldn't have dumped all that on you."
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No idea where he was and not even sure the PADD in his back pocket would work off-ship if he did need help, he'd taken to wandering the tourist shops.
Turns out, asshole shopkeepers didn't like it very much if you manhandled their stuff but had no money.
Lost, angry and still actually wearing the rumpled clothes he'd slept in, he headed toward the waterfront.
He thought he might be going crazy when he caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd. He latched onto the thought, desperate for something familiar.
"--Scotty?"
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Harold jogged to catch up, and the knot in his stomach unwound slightly. As much as he couldn't deal with Spottacus, he didn't actually want to be alone. He couldn't take a crying woman at the best of times.
Scotty was the furthest thing from a crying woman he could think of, and a friendly face to boot.
"I meant to thank you again."
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The part of him in love hoped he was happy. That Pavel was taking care of him.
The part of Harold that was alone hated them both for having the other. It just wasn't fair.
Glancing at Scotty, Harold hoped the other man hadn't noticed his sniff. He wanted to bury it all for a while, bolstered by the tentative partnership of someone he was coming to think of as a friend.
People passing had thus far mostly ignored the pair, and Harold thought he could live without the evening's drinking if he had to; this was peaceful enough.
Reply
Regardless, he didn't ask. Just looked back down into the water, still keeping an ear out for the sounds of a mechanic needed. "Far... I mean, where are ye from? Before all o' this."
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"Nowhere," he stated simply. It wasn't an answer, he knew, so he tried again, in a lighter tone. "Well, New Jersey. 2009. Which is fucking- nowhere. Nowhen."
He tugged at a loose thread and watched it unravel, detaching the hem. It was Hikaru's old shirt.
"What about you? I know neither of us got on that ship by exactly conventional means, man, but I kinda forgot to ask. Sorry."
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He didn't need to drown himself anymore, but he still wanted to be pleasantly buzzed.
Eyebrows raised hopefully, he ventured: "Bar food?"
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He stopped collecting his things long enough to give Scotty a sidelong look. "I know you hate it, man, but - thanks. I still- um, you know. But this. This was - really, really good."
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"Hey, Scotty. Long time no see."
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She held up her wrist. "Almost completely healed. Still twinges a bit if I bump it but it's fine."
She glanced over at Harold. She felt bad for breaking down when she was supposed to be helping him. "Sorry about earlier, Harold. I shouldn't have dumped all that on you."
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