moves like jagger [open]

[jirk]

Characters: Jim Kirk and open!
Date: May 4th, watch as I refuse to crack jokes about rival sci-fi franchises.
Location: A couple different scenarios, thread starters for each. If you'd like to set up another scenario, PM me and we can hash out something else!
Situation: Jim's acquainting himself with the concept of being, you know, on a giant turtle.
Warnings/Rating: Shouldn't go past PG-13.
Notes: Starting in prose, feel free to hop in with prose or actionspam.

Comments

➸ bar-hopping

[jirk]

The day had dwindled into nothing, and he'd come no closer to figuring out anything about this place (besides the obvious) or why he was here (apparently they needed 'heroes'. Well that was flattering and all, but kind of vague) or... anything, really. Oh, he had a great barometric reading on his tricorder, and he'd identified all the local branches of dialect as being something never encountered before (his kingdom (but not his ship, thanks) for Uhura's presence) in Federation history, but beyond that? Nada. Zilch. Zip.

So he'd found his way into one of the bars that was still serving some form of alcohol. He'd gotten the Emperor's little care package all right, and he'd slapped down most (all) of the coinage down on the countertop.

"Hey, what's a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?"

He was out of his captain's uniform by this point. No sense disgracing the uniform if it turned out his constitution couldn't handle the booze. He'd kept the pants, but his shirt was simple and black. Still, he wore his phaser in plain sight and had his tricorder on his hip.

In the meantime, ladies beware. He had plans to hit on anything that moved, breathed, or otherwise caught his attention.

[imaginate]

[Four months. He’s not sure how he knows, but it’s probably been that long. Or longer. The calm of the turtle is gone and while Kyle didn’t find that annoying or intrusive, he is decidedly more morose. Sinestro is free. The man who tore apart the universe, who broke him, is free. He can’t deny he’s angry, and it’s building, but it has nowhere to go, here.

So he spends the day outside the city, smashing as many rocks as he could, so by the time he shows up at this bar in the Fire Sector he’s sweaty, thirsty, and still pissed off, but less so. The alcohol is somewhat comforting, and maybe he’s here because he wants a fight on his hands. There’s no thrill in it like there is for Hal and Guy, but Kyle knows when he needs to vent steam and well, a bar is the best place to do it.

(He can’t believe he misses the mess hall fights, sometimes. Of all things.)

Two hours later he’s hunched over the counter and the ring is coldly informing him that his blood alcohol level is far above regulation and if he does not stop right now it will be forcibly purged from his system. And that it will be extremely unpleasant for him.

He’s certainly not on the lookout for new faces, but he studies Jim with a critical eye. And maybe a little something that says what the hell do you want?]

Ask nicely.

[jirk]

[Jim looks at the newcomer. Looks at one of the nearby kedan with a sort of 'is he seriously doing what I think he's doing' gesture, pointing first at the stranger and then at his own chest. The kedan shrugs-- or does the kedan equivalent of a shrug, anyway, and Kirk's attention slowly slides back to the guy making this his business.]

And if I'd been talking to you, pal, maybe I would.

[imaginate]

So easy-peasy. Stop talking.

[He gestures to the barkeep for one and the ring glows angrily in response, clearly irritated by his continual disobedience. He waggles a finger at it.]

Don't you start.

[jirk]

Hey, it's a free turtle, last I checked. And unless you're hiding an army under your bar stool, I really don't think you've got what it takes to make me.

[THIS DUDE IS CLEARLY OFF HIS ROCKER SO Kirk just takes his beer (which looks watered down) and take a healthy swig. It's gross, but it's a point of masculine pride that he doesn't so much as grimace at the aftertaste.]

[imaginate]

An army and then some.

[Not kidding about this. He finds himself blearily wishing he was on Oa, somebody would have taken the hint and hit him by now.]

THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING.

[Even for the usual flat tone the AI takes, there is something decidedly icy about the statement.]

I said, don't start. This isn't going to kill me, so it's none of your damn business.

[jirk]

[Kirk reaches out to pat the guy's shoulder.]

Sure thing, champ.

[And with that, he's pretty much set on ignoring him. There is a pretty lady making eyes at him from across the room and he's just going to head in her direction, shall he?]

[imaginate]

[Oh no.

Oh no, you did not just. You did not.

Kyle grabs Jim roughly by the shoulder and faces him, furious.]

Who the hell do you think you are?

[jirk]

[The beer sloshes all over Kirk's shirt, and you know what? He hasn't even had a chance to sleep since the Gorn nearly killed T'Mar. He went straight from there to here, spent the entire day exploring and poking his nose into things and generally getting nowhere fast. And before that he'd spent the last fourteen hours being shot at, beaten on - first by the Gorn brutes and then by Spock, of all people. If you've never been hit by a Vulcan, trust him, it isn't pretty.

He isn't quite jonsing for a fight, but it's close thing, that old ugliness tugged to the surface. His captain's instinct wars with the urge to just hit and get hit, and he has to visibly swallow down his anger.]

Listen. You're drunk. I don't pick on guys who can't hold their liquor. So get off of me and go home, man. I won't say it again.

[And in the meantime he's just going to wipe his hand on Kyle's shirt because it's covered in beer, thanks.]

Re: ➸ bar-hopping

[fearlessherosheart]

Tazendra is drinking (though not nearly enough for her tastes). And trying to start some sort of dice game going with the kedan, but currently isn't having all that much luck.

Which means there's a very loud, tall woman in the corner of your bar, Jim.

[OOC: Tazendra probably won't take flirting well, considering she looks down on what would be normal humans. I, on the other hand, don't particularly care what she thinks.]

[jirk]

He never had gotten that beer. One mouthful, just prior to breaking it over that Kyle guy's head hadn't nearly been enough, especially given the beating they'd given each other.

So he found another bar after parting ways with his new pal (he thinks that word to himself with some sardonic irony and a genuineness that borders on the masochistic) and goes hunting for another place to drink in relative peace. He finds that place on the edge of the Earth sector, and slips inside. He's still in the same shirt from the fight, but it's black and hides the blood of a broken nose easier than the telltale roadmap of his face could hope to.

He's not in a bad mood, just kind of mellow, come down off the adrenaline high of a fight. He takes his drink from the bartender (watered down, again, seriously what's up with this place?) and goes to find a spot in the bar that won't be prone to making his pounding headache any worse than it is. It just so happens that the only place in the house that isn't packed full of kedan is by a table playing some house game. Well, why not. He'll sit and watch for a while.

[fearlessherosheart]

Tazendra notices him. "Are you playing?" Because despite the fact that Tazendra is drinking and apparently free with her money, she doesn't have a full table. Which is disappointing.

[jirk]

Kirk gives her a slow, appraising look. She is seriously tall. And she looks like she could probably break him in half with a stern word. He grins a little, laughs. Runs his thumb over the rim of his glass and glances back up, considering. Oh hell, why not. She's hot, and probably dangerous, and those are two of his favourite things.

"Depends on the game."

And for the sharp of hearing, that is most definitely an innuendo.

[fearlessherosheart]

Had he been the right species, Tazendra might have flirted back. Had he not looked like he'd already gotten the stuffing knocked out of him once tonight, she might have picked a fight. "I do not suppose you know Shereba?"

So, she's going to ignore it and hope Kirk is interested in a good game of cards.

[jirk]

"Not in so many words, but I'm a fast learner if you wanna show me the ropes." He stood up, ambled over to the table, set his drink down on the edge and pulled up a chair.

"What're we playing for?"

[fearlessherosheart]

"Do you have some of the local currency?"

[jirk]

He rummages through his pockets. According to his guide, every 'foreigner' gets a stipend. Sort of an apology for the whole kidnapping deal, he suspects. He's blown most of it already, on food and more importantly copious amounts of alcohol, but he has a few coins left and he slaps them down on the table.

"I can always owe you."

He says that with a raised eyebrow and the tiniest bit of a leer.

[cmdreffingshepard]

Shepard liked the bars in Keeliai better than the ones on the Citadel, or Omega. Less crappy pounding club music, more dark corners for quiet conversations.

Or just spots to sit and have a drink alone, thinking about your life and your role in the universe and watching people come and go.

The newcomer was young, good looking, with the cocky assurance of, well. A young, cocky soldier who thinks he's invincible. Shepard knew his type, though she hadn't seen this guy around before, and she came to this bar at least once a week lately.

"You're lucky the rationing isn't as bad right now as it was a couple weeks ago," she said lightly as he slapped down money on the bar. Gun on his hip, she noted. Well, she had her own gun, too. Not an unusual sight.

[jirk]

Kirk turned to face her a little more fully, leaning one elbow on the bar. It'd been an interesting night (day?) so far, but he was always looking for an excuse to up the ante. And at a guess, this woman had plenty of ante.

"Yeah, I heard about that. Lucky me, huh?"

[cmdreffingshepard]

"Lucky everyone," Shepard said. "The locals have been looking for someone to blame, and foreigners make for an easy target." That was a universal rule, in Shepard's experience. Make the newcomer the scapegoat, call them an upstart, an interloper. Everyone, everywhere - they always resisted change.

[jirk]

That warranted borrowing an expression from Spock. He raised an eyebrow a little, half in query, half in commiseration. She had a quality he almost inherently recognized. Career military. Hard to mistake for being anything but what it was.

And she was definitely not the sort of woman he wanted to cross. Call it a sixth sense.

"Are we -- you know, targeting back?" Who had two thumbs and didn't feel like putting up with systematic oppression? This dude.

[cmdreffingshepard]

"Targeting the natives, for being resentful of us?" She raised an eyebrow at him right back. "The Emperor is who we need to get at. She's hiding something. I've seen some of it with my own eyes."

Not something Shepard would tell just anyone, really, but it was kind of obvious she was talking to someone with a military background, and that made all the difference at this point.

[jirk]

Jim cocked his head to one side, and then flicked his fingers up near his temple in a vague gesture. "Name's Jim. Jim Kirk, of the USS Enterprise." That same hand he then extended for a shake in her general direction.

[cmdreffingshepard]

The names didn't ring a bell - she knew just about every ship in the Alliance fleet - but in this place, she knew enough to know she probably wouldn't know a lot. So she took his hand, giving it a firm shake. "Jane Shepard, SSV Normandy." At the very least, it was good to be talking to someone who understood the ship name was more important than stupid stuff like where you were born.

[jirk]

"Not a designation I've ever heard. Must be one of those alternate universe things." He wiggles his fingers a little when he said that. He was hardly new to the concept, but damned if it wasn't getting on his nerves with the frequency with which it was popping up all over the place.

"2259 for me. You?"