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

[imaginate]

[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.]

[jirk]

[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.]

[imaginate]

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.]

[jirk]

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

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

Name's Jim.

[imaginate]

Kyle.

[Takes a sip, and then caps it.]

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

[jirk]

[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.]

[imaginate]

[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?

[jirk]

[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.]

[imaginate]

[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.

[jirk]

[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.]

[imaginate]

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.]

[jirk]

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.

[imaginate]

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?

[jirk]

[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.

[imaginate]

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?

[jirk]

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

What gave it away?

[imaginate]

Peacekeeping?

[There are evil universes, ok? ok.]

[jirk]

'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.]

[imaginate]

More like there's something similar in a lot of worlds. [Quieter, more to himself-] Universe needs looking after.

[Beat.]

You didn't give me a last name, so I made one up.

[jirk]

So is that what you do when you aren't picking barfights?

[It's half-teasing. His hackles are down.]

'Jim Princess', huh? You know, it's got a certain charm to it, but I think I like 'Kirk' better.

[imaginate]

Or being kidnapped and made to stay on magic turtles, yeah.

[Holds out his hand to shake.]

I like mine better. Nine times out of ten, it's accurate, too.

[jirk]

Last time I was kidnapped anywhere it was by a bunch of bipedal lizards that wanted to make me fight to the death for their amusement. I already prefer the turtle.

[Well, why not. Jim shakes his hand. His grip is firm but fair, he's not out to do any finger-crushing.]

So I'm a princess, and that makes you, what? If you call yourself a knight in shining armour you're getting another bottle of beer to the head.

[He lifts his hand, faintly indicates on his own skull exactly whereabouts this bottle would go.]

[imaginate]

No judgement here. The last time I was kidnapped -- [he broke me, the words catch but he covers it, fast.] it was by somebody who wasn't anywhere near as gorgeous as the Emperor.

[Kyle's handshake is firm, professional. He's not out to make any threats here.

Teasingly:] Sure you aren't jumping to conclusions? You haven't even seen my horse and armour.

[jirk]

[There's a story there, but Jim nods acceptance, doesn't push. They're just two guys bleeding on a sidewalk, nothing to see here.]

I'm pretty sure it should be mandatory. From now on, kidnappers must be ridiculously good looking. It'd make the whole process easier.

[BECAUSE REALLY.]

Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it, pretty boy. If I'm ever taken hostage you can come to my rescue and we'll about call it even.

[imaginate]

[Any witty retort he had up his sleeve crumbles. His expression goes slack, distant, and defiant. All he can think of is being surrounded by fire-- never escape never get out never overcome-- and he can't breathe or think or fight because he can't even move--

He inhales sharply and forces a pained smile.]

Let's stick to 'shut up already' and 'get off this planet', yeah?

[His fists are clenched so tightly the knuckles are white, and he's shaking with rage.]