(no subject)

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

Leonard McCoy knows better than to let his guard down around the bar. He's been told to be careful by a certain Other more times than he cares to count.

Which is why he's sprawled on the couch, a book in his lap (a real book, gotten from the Bar as a treat), snoring, completely asleep just resting his eyes. The print is harder to read than common handheld electronic tablets.

Yes.

That is it entirely.

Comments

[cutting_edgex23]

"Doctor McCoy," X says carefully, from several feet away.

She can repeat it as necessary until he wakes up.

Er.

Stops reading.

Yes.

That.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

Somewhere around the fourth repetition, he blinks, blearily, at a ceiling that he doesn't remember seeing before.

...

Oh. Oh. Right. He sits up a little bit more, scrubbing at his eyes and generally attempting to pretend he wasn't napping there.

[cutting_edgex23]

X scents the air. Carefully.

Just in case he is unwell.

Then --

"You are okay?"

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"Hmmm? Oh, hello there." He re-orients, not having realized he had an audience. "I'm fine. Just.." Um. He smiles innocently. "Reading."

Yes. No napping to be seen here. Definitely lots of reading.

[cutting_edgex23]

"Oh. Okay."

X lets that sink in, too.

"It was very boring? For you. The book."

Sometimes boring things put people to sleep, right?

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"Ah... no? It is a very interesting book. It's about boats." He explains, helpfully. This is, possibly, the least descriptive account of 'Master and Commander' ever recorded, but to be honest, he didn't get past the first half of the first chapter.

[cutting_edgex23]

"Oh."

X absorbs that.

"You like boats?"

As conversations-starters go, it is probably not the best. But maybe it is serviceable enough?

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He actually hasn't been on one since he was five. Not the traditional, in-the-water sort, anyway, and never on one made of wood. So the question catches him a bit off-guard.

"They're... alright? I mean, as inanimate objects go. I'm sure I could think up objects I'd like better." He manages to reply, never really having firmed up his opinion on boats.

[cutting_edgex23]

X looks slightly perplexed.

"That is relevant?"

Beat.

"If you are reading about boats."

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

She arrives in the usual manner, stepping out of a rend in the air itself, closing it behind her with an idle flip of her hand. She senses him and turns her gaze to see him completely ignoring her advice.

Really.


...




Really.

Olga doesn't approach him. She simply sighs and waves her hand.

The couch beneath him draws a deep breath, and shudders a little.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

Okay, that is more than plenty to get McCoy on his feet. Not quite enough to render him completely awake and with it, but definitely on his feet. It's entirely possible that between the two of them, now he's the one with tachycardia.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

That? Was the fastest she has ever seen him move.

She'll just be over here with a hand clamped over her mouth, shoulders shaking, eyes glittering with mischief.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He blinks blearily at the offending furniture, debating if it had actually moved, or if that had been part of the... um. Mental recreation of the story he was reading. Mmm.

Considering this place, he decides to play it safe. He retrieves his book from where it fell on the floor, and drops into the armchair instead to get comfortable.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

The armchair waits until he gets settled.

And then, very slowly, rises on the tips of its lion-like feet, and starts

to creep

away.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

To be very honest, at first, he doesn't notice. In his defense, furniture doesn't often run away with him. His imagination does, all the time. Sometimes the Enterprise runs away while he's inside it, usually to the sweet sweet symphony of alert alarms and Scotty swearing up a blue streak.

But not the furniture. The furniture stays put.

But to add points to his general life score, once he does realize it (a couple feet later), he gets to his feet with alacrity (and a bit of yelping).

Now the furniture in general are being eyed. Warily. How does one sedate furniture?

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

He turns around, and small herd of chairs huddles together, like frightened sheep, milling around one another and generally trying to avoid his gaze.

One of the tables is trying to shield them, oddly protective, and the chair? Is now following him like a curious dog.

It may even be wagging a bit.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

McCoy, not entirely convinced that this is real, pinches himself. The resulting look of wide-eyed stunned realization is somewhat comical, really. A quick look around reveals the fire irons by the fireplace, and he scoops up a poker for s defense.

And frankly, as defensive stands go? His is utter crap.

[27_53]

With a rustle and a thwump sound, there is suddenly a birdman on the nearest beanbag chair to McCoy's couch, having just fallen dropped down from the rafters above.

Dust and down feathers filter through the air, and Skellig glares up at the wooden beams.

"Bad angles make no sense," he mutters, grumpily, as he dusts off the sleeve of his wool coat.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He startles awake, sending his book sliding to the floor. From his briefly confused expression, it'd be safe to say he forgot he left the Enterprise.

Once he has his facts straight (or at least straighter) he offers Skellig a crooked grin.
"Not exactly a three-pointer, hmm?" He asks, deducing a fall from the scattered feathers and injured expression. His glance is a bit searching - you never stop being a patient of McCoy's. He just offers brief periods of freedom from the hypospray.

[27_53]

"Basketball was never my thing anyway." Skellig shrugs. Nothing is broken, so it doesn't really matter.

"Seems like the words might make better fuel?" He nods at the now-discarded book. Clearly, if it was that boring...it might be of more use as a firestarter instead of entertainment.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He... very honestly has no idea what the basketball comment is supposed to mean. He's never even seen a game played, though he knows there's a couple teams who play on board ship.

"Hmm? Oh, well... it's alright, I suppose, but it couldn't win against the results of a late-night emergency patching-up of an out-of-hand training session." Frankly, he thinks training is good and well, but put enough people in a small enough space and keep them away from open air for long enough, and scuffles are bound to happen.

And that's where he comes in, armed with a hypospray and the ability to lecture and suture at the same time.

[27_53]

"Helps that it's comfortable. The couch. Doubt the book is."

The way Skellig is sprawled into the beanbag chair hardly looks comfortable, but when you hardly weigh what you're supposed to, sometimes things just work out in your favor.

And the idea of curling up on the couch isn't very comfortable to Skellig. He much prefers -- as McCoy and Olga can both confirm -- an overstuffed, pillow-style dog bed himself. Easier on the wings and all.

"Haven't seen any snakes lately," he adds, cheerfully.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"And good thing, too, considering how you ended up last time." He grumbles, giving him a very pointed 'I do have more hyposprays where those others came from, mister' look. "Have you eaten today?" More pointed. He's roused the MD at this point.

[27_53]

"I don't like sandwich day."

He glances towards the Front Door.

"Bread is soggy. Mostly."

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

McCoy sighs, taking this as a 'no', and pushes himself to his feet. Skellig long-ago skipped the 'casual acquaintance' step of the relationship.

"Stay here, no disappearing on me now, Olya would scalp me." This is patently not true, and is said with a smirk as he heads towards the bar. Soon he returns with two plates, both with hefty servings of two favorite dishes.

Look, it didn't take him long to cotton on, and they're hardly the least healthy thing he's ever run across.