(Untitled)

[i_candozat]

When you throw together groups of people--no matter what the year or advancements made from the past conditions of the (primarily) human race--that have what are perceived to be irreconcilable differences, problems will eventually happen. It's been a few days on the other side of the door for one teenaged Pavel Chekov, going relatively smoothly as

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[notabricklayer]

He knows that uniform. He spent enough time in it (or some variation thereof) when he left Georgia. He doesn't recognize the person wearing it, but that is entirely secondary.

Is it bad that he recognizes a uniform already half broken-down? Possibly. He doesn't dwell on the thought as he abandons his lunch and storms across the barroom.

"Goddamn, son, have they not taught you how to get out of the way of a fist yet?" He grumbles, more habitual than truly meant, as he approaches.

[i_candozat]

Pavel doesn't bother to snap back--he recognizes the uniform enough to tell he's outranked enough that to do that would be a very stupid decision--and bites down on the very sarcastic and curse-interspersed Russian response he wants to give.

Instead he mutters something as clearly as he can about moving right when he should have moved left, which isn't very clear at all given the thick accent and the unhelpful broken nose. (He'll explain after he can talk again that the punch was likely deserved given what he said.)

[notabricklayer]

Most people wouldn't understand that at all - the combination is pretty daunting. But McCoy has a few advantages. One is that he understands 'broken nose' fluently... and the other is an Other.

"Mmmhmmm. Let's get you sorted out before someone reports that."

[i_candozat]

It's very likely too late to prevent it being reported, but then Chekov isn't overly concerned with that part right now.

He lifts his hands to reveal a definitely broken nose, blood still wet on his lips and chin and down his throat, and though normally his face could be described as pretty for a boy, he looks about as angry as he's gotten in a long time--ever, that anyone's seen in him in the bar. It's probably less rare than McCoy wants it to be that he ends up fixing broken body parts on people not yet old enough to apply for a learner's permit.

Chekov isn't going to say it hurts, though it does; he doesn't want to make the situation worse.

[and_far_away]

Sharpe knows a uniform when he sees one, even partly removed, as well as a young officer. He glances the boy over with sympathetic amusement.

"Hope you gave as good as you got."

[i_candozat]

"Ech, mostly, sir," he answers. Pavel didn't precisely stick around to see how badly a kick to the midsection hurt the cadet who'd punched him in the face, but given he's both a runner and has practiced ballet for the last ten or so years his legs are quite strong enough to hurt.

[and_far_away]

"Good lad." He grins. "Looks like you could do with some cleaning up, though. You know the way?"

He could set the boy's nose, but it would hurt. A lot.

[i_candozat]

He nods. "To ze infirmary?" That was one of the first places he asked about upon getting here, because not knowing where sickbay is located is a very stupid idea.