Open

[zoomzooohshit]

Olson was making a rather inelegant entrance, flight suit looking a little singed but Olson himself none the worse for the interaction with a rather massive space drill-- well, except for the smacking into the floor, landing on his arse, and winding up sprawled out and winded bit.

He takes a second to get his breath back. "That. Was. Brilliant."

No,

Comments

[aviophobic]

*Good job scaring the ever loving shit out of Lenore there.* Good god, man! Where in the hell did you come from? *And the doctor side takes over, crouching beside him.* ...Are you all right, kid?

[zoomzooohshit]

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Olson sits up and pulls the helmet off, shaking his head. "Whoo, that was a bit over-interesting. 'Course, this isn't where I oughta be..."

[aviophobic]

You took a nasty tumble there. You might want to get checked out before you say you're fine.

...In that getup, no, not where you should be at all. In the middle of a dive, were you?

[zoomzooohshit]

"Well, yes, maybe.

Well, in the middle of a fall. A very unpleasant one."

[starfleetdata]

*Data sees Olsen land on the floor, and calmly walks over.*

Are you alright?

[zoomzooohshit]

"I'm brilliant." Olson's still a bit woozy, there. "Now what happened to the column of fiery death?"

[starfleetdata]

To the... if I may inquire, what are you referring to when you mention the "column of fiery death"?

*Wow. Even Data is at a loss for words here.*

[zoomzooohshit]

"There was a drill. As far as I remember, I fell into it." Olson drags a hand through his hair. "Apparently not, though."