driftfleet | JULY PLANET MINGLE

[Well, that's that. Natasha moves, intercepted by one of the big guy's friends, another slightly less big guy who grabs her shoulder. Natasha doesn't think before acting, and while her hand looks like it barely brushes the guy, he goes down in a pile of nerves and pain. There's another to take his place, though, and she looks past him in frustration.

Meanwhile, big guy keeps yelling, hurling a stream of what she supposes are local insults as he lifts his unaffected arm to try and swipe at the one-eyed kid.]

[the guy is swinging from Coil's blind side now, and he is way too wasted to compensate for it, so he's going to get hit.

--not before his striking arm carries through to whip up toward the guy's throat, though. it's probably a good thing that he's clumsy and wrecked right now, so no one has to deal with the drama of a collapsed windpipe. the big guy is going to end up only stunned and choking, as Coil is clobbered over to the side.]

[The big guy connects with Coil's temple before he ends up doubled over himself, and Nat spares another glance over before dealing with the guys in front of her. Apparently the guy she'd hit had friends of his own--brothers, she thinks, they look related, but maybe it's just the scowls--and now she was the center of attention.

She glances up again and sees another guy going to kick her fellow fleetmate, looks back just in time to block a blow from a guy in front of her. Another grabs her from behind and lifts, and she kicks out in front of her, knocking the first one back. She follows that with a snap of her head, and she feels the nose of the guy holding her break as he curses, throwing her sideways at the bar.

Bright side, she's now near her original goal. Less bright, she lands the wrong way on the edge of the bar, one arm trapped beneath her, and she can feel something snap as she hits the hard wood and bounces off, landing on her knees cradling it.

Yep. Day ruined.]

[unbeknownst to him, Coil is taking a page out of Natasha's book by leaning back onto the table he'd just crashed into to avoid his next assaulter's kick, and then launching out with both legs for the guy's knee. he's still targeting more joints and bundles of nerves instead of even trying for anything more straightforward or time-consuming.

maybe if he can keep disabling them with a bare minimum of strikes, they'll leave him alone. not that he's thinking clearly enough for even that thought.

he continues to remain oblivious of Natasha's presence until he clumsily rolls off the table, and almost pitches right into the bar. he catches himself on it just barely--coming embarrassingly close so to just bashing his face on it.

it's only then that he sees the girl curled up in pain, and kind of... squints at her, trying to figure out if she's involved or just a bystander.

he's also still not watching his blind side very well.]

[The pain is minimal right now, but that's thanks to adrenaline and rising anger, anger that finds itself directed at the dumbass standing and squinting down at her, completely ignoring the guy coming at him from his right. Natasha swears in Russian, pushes to her feet and shoves Coil to the side, away from the bar and the guy about to smash a bottle over his head. Instead, the bottle smashes on the bar, and Natasha's left fist finds his solar plexus, following through by smashing his head into the bar when he doubles over. She might be cradling her right arm to her chest, but she's still doing just fine--though judging by the looks on the faces around her, it might be time to make an escape.

Whirling, she checks for more combatants, looking to see where the kid ended up in the process. If she didn't at least drag him out of here, she'd have no one to blame for this whole mess. No one except herself. she should have known better.]

[by that point, the kid is half leaning on the bar, half wobbling on his feet, and eyeing the big guy who had originally grabbed him.

said large man is hanging back, but growling insults at him and looking like he probably won't be hesitating for long. this foreign kid did mess up his shoulder and kick out his buddy's knee. so, they are not a popular pair of people at the moment.

leaving would be an excellent idea.]

[He doesn't look like he's going to be much help. Hell, he doesn't look like he can walk, and now she's really pissed. Luckily, half the guys seem to be down, and the other half are at least a little wary, psyching themselves up to have another go. She's left at least two of them with broken bones, and honestly she'd like to do more in exchange for her own possibly--probably--broken arm, but right now she needs to go. They need to go.

And it doesn't look like he's making it out under his own volition.

Cursing again, she shoves away from the bar again, grabbing him by the collar and leaning in close.]

Can you walk on your own, or am I dragging your ass out of here?

[he whirls on her just like he had the first time he'd been grabbed, one hand going right for her wrist-- but he thankfully stops short when he glances back and is met by a girl's face.

and a whole breath goes by before he processes what she's asking, but he eventually nods. he's got this.

mostly.]

[For a moment she almost hopes he tries grabbing her, so she can knock some sense into him. But here he is, hesitating, and eventually he nods, and there's nothing to do then but to get them the hell out of there. Her jaw set, she steps back just far enough for him to stand upright. If he can. If not, she'll carry him out of here, if she has to.]

Let's go. Now.

[another loose nod, and he doesn't wait for her to lead before turning to stagger for the exit.

he might accidentally hip-check a chair or two on his way, and who knows how the uneven ground beyond the bar's flat floor is going to treat him, but he can at least make it out of the place on his own.]

[She's only half a step behind him as they leave the bar, and fortunately nothing more than a few yelled threats follow them outside. Which is good, because while adrenaline is definitely still pumping, her arm is beginning to tingle in a way she knows signals coming pain of the third degree. The door closes, and she eases up just behind him and slightly to the left, so she can catch him with her right arm if necessary. Sand isn't exactly the most stable surface at the best of times.]

[it's probably a good thing that she's there, because yeah... he's at that point where adrenaline is just beginning to ebb, and that was the only thing keeping his limbs as focused as they were.

as soon as he hits that sand, something buckles when it shouldn't, and he's staggering off to the side]

[Yep. Just as suspected, he can't make it past the front door. She should consider them both lucky he made it that far--if he'd fell when they were inside, the mob back there would have been on them in a heartbeat. Her reflexes haven't changed, for all that she's injured, and when he staggers she's there to grab him by the left side, right arm around his ribs. Stronger than she looks, though she does sway with him at first--he's practically nothing but dead weight, and sand isn't exactly her favorite footing, either. Swearing under her breath in Russian, she shoots a glance at him.]

Where am I taking you?

Edited 2015-08-07 17:35 (UTC)

[it takes him a minute of over overcompensating one way and then the other to balance on his own feet again.

and when he does, he touches his lips with one finger, and then puts his hands clumsily together and wags one of them like a tail.

it might be an attempt at answering.]

[The gesture tells her next to nothing. Except, perhaps, that her current weight is unable to speak. She doesn't let go once he finds his feet again. Probably safer for both of them, that way. His own pride and independence stopped mattering when she felt her arm crack.]

I have no idea what that's sign for. Give me your communicator.

[she's going to have to wait a minute while he fishes his communicator out of his pocket, then. there is absolutely no way that he's going to be able to find his communicator and attempt to move anywhere at the same time.

hopefully no one is planning on getting brave enough to bother them again, because they really haven't gone very far. they're more or less a couple of banged-up, sitting ducks.

--but finally! after a minute, he finds the device and clumsily hands it in her direction.]

[She can feel the skin on the back of her neck crawling, exposed as they are in the open like this. Any minute now, one or all of them back in the bar could decide to charge out and settle the score. But she doesn't display any of her concern, at least not on her face. The arm around him might be a little painfully tight, though.]

[Once she's got his communicator, they're on the move again, at least for another dozen yards or so away from the bar. Just far enough to make it past some cover, a few trees staggering towards the beach like drunks at last call. Like the pair of them, really. Pausing underneath one, she leans him against the trunk and looks at the comm, scrolling one-handed through the interface until she finds a familiar name. Zhas gets a quick text message from Coil's device that isn't gibberish, right hand slightly awkward on the keys.]

Found your puppy. Bringing him home. -Nat

[That done, she looks at Coil again.]

Guessing that was your sign for Red Fish?

[by the time she detaches and props him up against a tree, the tide of adrenaline is ebbing away fast. the empty wake of it leaves him rattled and sickened, so the nod he gives her is pretty distracted. he can feel his own body much more clearly now than he'd like, with how awful and poisoned the whole thing is. starting in his gut and radiating outward, everything just feels... bad.

and then he looks up and really notices how close the beach is--he can see the lapping line of seawater moving from here--and that pushes him right over the edge of misery.

making sure to hang on tight to the trunk of the tree, he quietly steps around to the other side. he'd like to get farther, but there's no time; at least he can't see the sea this way.

just give him a minute while he leans forward to gag and retch up his last drink.]

[Nat slips his communicator into her pocket with some difficulty, trying not to move any more than she has to. She can feel the slow onset of pain coming like a freight train--not much time to waste, and as he staggers behind the tree she feels a flicker of annoyance that definitely isn't abated all that much by the sound of him wasting his last drink.]

[At least she's patient enough to wait for him, and not just leave him there for the seagulls.]

Seasickness usually doesn't kick in unless you're on the water, in my experience.

[Let's focus on his problems, maybe then the stabbing, throbbing pain in her arm will be easier to ignore.]

[the vultures of the ocean won't make an easy meal of him today, it seems.

and it takes him a minute to pull himself back together, because... getting sick without a tongue is extremely problematic, by the sounds of it. he can't even spit properly.

once he's finally caught his breath and wiped off his mouth, he staggers back from around the tree, but he's definitely keeping his eye down now. either from embarrassment, or trying to avoid looking at the ocean.

he maybe tries to explain. shaking his head, he points at the water and then follows it up with a very slurred sign or two, but... it's probably not important. it's the mute version of drunken rambling.]

[She's still waiting by the tree, though whether it's out of her own exhaustion or out of a lingering sense of solidarity is up for interpretation. The important part is she's there, and even if he isn't looking at her, she's looking at him, and very deliberately puts herself between him and the ocean as she motions with her chin.]

We'll save the get-to-know-your-neuroses chat for when you actually have manual dexterity, okay? Come on. Let me get you back to Zhas so I can get my arm looked at.

[he hesitates at first, and has that look of drunkenly having more to say, but... he's a smart kid. he eventually knows when to give up and drop it.

so, he just gives a sort of pathetic little nod, and starts a sad stagger in the direction he's guessing they should continue. getting sick cleared his head a little bit, but did nothing for making him feel more in control of his own body.]

[But not, apparently, when to give up the drinking. Must be one hell of a phobia he's got. But that is also not her problem. Like getting involved in that fight wasn't her problem, and walking him home isn't her problem. Right. She must have spent too much time hanging around heroes.]

[He might wibble and wobble, he might stagger, but to her credit Natasha stays between him and the ocean, her good hand occasionally reaching over to steady him by an elbow or hip.]

You're going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, kid. Might be better if you spend the rest of this little vacation indoors.

[he readily nods, because... yeah. accepting the consequences of this mess had always been part of the decision. and he gestures in a big circle around them, indicating the whole island, and throws his hand disgustedly off to the side. he did everything he needed to do here, so he is so very much done with this place.

and, as small of a gesture as it is, having someone walking between him and the looming body of water... is actually helping to some degree. he's sensitive to his periphery, being flanked, having a blind side --all of that. so, to have one threat a little less present on his radar is really nice.

they might even make it to the ship without any other incidents, at this rate.]

[That's one gesture she doesn't need a signing almanac to translate. Even with the rough motion and the way it sends him staggering just a little when he flings his hands to the side, she couldn't agree more. As the minutes roll by, putting the bar behind them, the ache both in her arm and in her head grows more immediate. Definitely something broken, she thinks, and of course it's just when she can least afford it.]

[Her pace increases ever so slightly, but never to more than he can match. She's getting him back to the ship through sheer stubbornness, if nothing else, and then she's going to Crusher to get this arm set and going the hell to bed.]

Remember where you parked?

[Even now, there's some sense of dry humor. It's all she's got left.]

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mortalcoil - 2015-09-11 05:47 (UTC) - Expand

JULY PLANET MINGLE

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the vultures of the ocean /o/

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