tushanshu_logs | moves like jagger [open]

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.]

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.

[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?]

[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?

[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.]

[Maybe it's the tone, which Kyle hears as you can't take me and that riles him: he's a Lantern, a fighter, it's in his blood, and he can take anything. Maybe it's the smell of beer being wiped on his damn shirt. Maybe it's the fact that he misses home and there's nothing in Keeliai for him. Maybe none, or all of this at once.

Either way, he lashes out - they always said he had a mean hook - and breaks Jim's nose.]

[The pain is immediate. Familiar. He tastes blood in the back of his throat and that brain-deep crunch of cartilage is anything but a break. His head snaps back and his vision blacks out all at once and when he grins (and he does grin) it's with the bloody rictus of someone who's probably been waiting for that.

So he promptly breaks his beer glass against the side of Kyle's head and tries to shove him off. His time in Starfleet aside, Jim's a brawler. He likes his space, and the first thing he's going to do is reach for a chair.]

[It's on; it's on and Kyle's grin is wicked too. He doesn't love it as much as Guy does - or he tells himself he doesn't - but when it comes down to it, he's not going to back down. The kedan, however, are moving away, giving him space. But no, he's not using his ring. It's him, his fists, and this stranger.

Twenty minutes later he has his back to the wall outside, nursing his injuries, the owner yelling something he can't really focus on, looking up at the sky, before he glances at his ring expectantly.]

Okay, this is your cue to lecture me on dignity.

[But neither Salaak nor Kilowog show up. Kyle can't even hear John. His face falls. God, Sora is going to kill him.]

[Jim's sitting on the curb with his head between his knees a short distance away. His face, his shirt are both a mess of blood and his knuckles are sore and swollen in a way that Bones would probably drag him to med-bay over.

Most of the damage is superficial (he hates breaking his nose) but honestly he can't even bring himself to be angry about it.]

I'm pretty sure you don't have any, at this point.

[It's tetchy, and his words don't ring as clear as they should due to the broken nose, but there's an element of teasing there, too. That was actually kind of fun.]

Ouch.

[There's... something about Jim that makes Kyle drag himself over and sink down beside him, fishing in his pocket for a small bottle of brandy. He uncaps it, takes a sip, and hands it to Jim. He did just beat the guy up, it's the least he can do.]

Round two, the gloves are coming off, pretty boy.

[... But hey, he takes the brandy. Takes a swig. Hands it back.]

Name's Jim.

Kyle.

[Takes a sip, and then caps it.]

You really don't want the gloves off version, trust me.

[There's a tired tension in his voice when he speaks,]

Don't even start. Whatever you dish out, I can take.

[He drags a hand through his hair and lets the pads of his fingers fall and curl slightly against the back of his neck. He's going to be sore tomorrow, and the muscles there only confirm his suspicions.

Well, this is a hell of a first day in paradise. 'Death, dreaming'. Whatever.]

[I can take out a moon with a single thought, he thinks. It's easy enough to say, to make the threat. Nothing conveys don't push me better. Then he lowers his head, and shakes it. The onus of restraint is on him. Not that he would use his ring like that. By now discipline runs so deep it might as well be tattooed on his bones.]

That goes double for me, Princess.

[He rolls up his sleeve, gestures to Jim, and holds out his right hand, ring pointed at him.]

May I have a look?

[He rears back and away, one eyebrow arched with the utmost in scepticism. It's obvious the guy (Kyle?) isn't going to try and hit him again (otherwise Jim would be breaking his jaw with gusto) but he's still wary.]

Uh, let's not.

[Wave that thing in his face.]

[He holds up both hands, palms facing Jim.]

Your injuries seem superficial, it can heal you pretty quick. [Beat.] Saves you a trip to my medic.

Edited 2013-05-05 02:03 (UTC)

[Kirk just shakes his head.]

Yeaaah, I think I'll leave the magical space healing to someone who didn't do the breaking in the first place. Thanks.

[Despite the guardedness of the statement, the 'thank you' at least, is genuine. And as if to prove his point, Kirk lays his index and middle fingers along the sides of his nose and yanks it straight with the practice of someone well used to getting punched on behalf of his own mouth. Coming down off adrenaline, it actually hurts more this time around - that telltale creep of black is back at the corners of his vision and his eyes are watering with the pain. He'd curse a blue streak if he were alone, but as it is he just wipes away the (not) tears and gives his head a shake, exhaling heartily.]

Sorry man. Bad day.

[The apology is genuine too, and Kyle lowers his hands, tries not to think about how long he's been stuck here or how empty he feels.]

So. Uhm. I haven't seen you around before? You new?

[Awkward attempt at friendliness is a go.]

Don't worry about it.

[Bad days happen. He won't hold a grudge so long as the guy stows the asshole behaviour in the future.]

'New'. Yeah, you could say that. Showed up about-- [he squints up at the setting sun.] -- eleven hours ago.

Seriously? Aw hell. [This is the 'well done Kyle you're such an idiot' face, but he forces it back into something neutral.] Got the run down yet?

Edited 2013-05-05 02:22 (UTC)

[He holds up a hand, ticks his fingers down one by one, cracked skin flexing over his knuckles.]

Can't go home. Emperor's in charge. Also hot. Also doesn't like to talk to people, and has apparently never heard of Starfleet. And there's a bunch of angry guys in bars who like to beat each other up.

[He tucks that same hand just under his chin, assuming a thinker's pose.]

And the barometric pressure of the atmosphere is 1018.7 hPa. But I'm guessing that's not going to be super useful.

Really doesn't like to talk to people. [He grimaces at angry guys, honestly he should be better at controlling his temper. (He could have beaten up Guy, but--)

And then-] Starfleet. [EYEBROW RAISE.] Let me guess, outer space?

[He rubs his sleeve across his mouth, trying to wipe away the excess blood.]

What gave it away?

Peacekeeping?

[There are evil universes, ok? ok.]

'And humanitarian armada', got it in one. Sounds like you've heard of us.

[... There's a telling pause, and Jim gives him a sideways look.]

Did you seriously call me princess?

[A little slow on the uptake, this one.]

Edited (extra phrase) 2013-05-05 15:57 (UTC)

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