driftfleet | Snip Snap

Entry tags:

Snip Snap

Who: Sam, Nami, anyone
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Bloodsport
When: 5th Feb

[The video feed cuts in on an angle, showing a clean bunk-room floor spattered with a few small traces of blood and a roll of gauze, and two people from the knees down; one wearing boots and sitting in a chair with his legs sprawled out, the other with custom heels standing behind him, keeping a steady stream of muttering--]

—my fault if I’m better than they are. [A bloodied gauze pad falls to the floor as she works.] You can’t hold a poker face, don’t play poker. [There’s a quiet hiss between teeth, and Nami’s low, quick apology. Sam huffs and twists, and there’s an audible crackle in his back somewhere — to which he grumbles:]

I really am getting too old for this.

Complain, complain. Here, this oughtta’ do it — I don’t… think it’ll scar. You should be good. Heh. [Sheepish.] … How old are you? In regular time.

I think I’m supposed to be thirty-something. Are we counting the last universe we were in? Anyway, you know, spiritually? Old man here. Pushing two centuries. Handle with care.

[Snort.] Spiritually maybe, but I’m pretty sure your bones aren’t that old. Quit complaining.

You can say that, but I have to write with this gimp hand. Stupid beer bottles. Remind me why I took up a bartending job.

You missed the excitement of home? [She rips off another piece of tape, sounding amused, and he gives a huffed laugh. Then a short, unsure pause.]

You okay? I mean, you had a moment back there. The guy with the freaky teeth.

[There’s a delay in answering as Nami works, then she replies too casually.] Yeah. Just took me by surprise, that’s all. Here— [There’s the sound of tissues being yanked from a box.] Stop bleeding all over my floor. [And after a moment, a change of subject:] Uh. I’m sorry.

You serious? Don’t even worry about it. Dean’s got us into dumber bar fights. Uhm… but, uh. Your hair is… Kind of…? [Spoken like a man who does not want to face a navigator’s wrath, and he trips over his words like they’re his gangly-ass legs.] It’s looking…

Hey I’m sure it’s in fashion somewhere in the universe. [Though there’s a long still pause, and then the heels move suddenly, turning away] It’s okay. It’s not practical anyway. I’ll just… tidy it. Or something.

[Sam rises up, turning on his heel as well. There’s a pat-pat as he taps the chair.]

I’ll just have to give it the Winchester treatment. We’re great barbers. Because, you know. Hunters are cheap-asses.

Uh-huh. Have you seen your hair lately?

… Wow, what’s that supposed to mean? [Off-camera, he flips it rather pathetically out of his face.]

It means I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cut it in the entire time I’ve known you. I’ve seen sheepdogs with bangs shorter than yours!

… Well… Fine. You cut mine, I’ll cut yours.

Mmmm… Sounds like fun. [Huehuehue.] But I’ll go first. I need to get rid of this lopsided look.

[There’s a click-clack as Nami sits down proper in the chair, and a woosh of what was likely some sort of medical paper as he wraps it around her neck carefully. Mostly because he knows the pains of John trimming his hair and letting it all fall down his shirt. And then, dramatically, he snips at the air.]

Don’t move. I’m known to be very dangerous with sharp objects.

Oh no. I’m terrified. [But she does keep still. She trusts you, Sam. And soon after, a long lock of orange hair falls to the floor by her feet. Sam wanders in focused circles around her, snipping here and there. If the camera could see him, there’d no doubt be a tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. The concentration is too real today. Snip, snipsnackt — After a long moment, he leans back.]

I think… That should do it. [He sounds unconfident at first, but… then he hums a more comfortable hum of approval.] Yeah, I think. What do you think?

Hold on. I need a mirror. Or maybe I can take a photo-- [A moment later, the comm is picked up and Nami’s slightly battered face squints into it and… kind of realises it’s on. Welp.

Then with a cheeky grin, it gets put down more gently on the bed, showing the chair properly this time instead of the lower angle of it.] It’ll do. Sit. [She figures someone will tell her if her hair is a disaster soon enough. Sam, though, looks a bit nervous on second thought as he sits and appears in frame, bruises and cuts and all.]

… You’ve cut someone’s hair before, right?

[Nami laughs delicately, rounding behind the chair with a snip-snap of the scissors as she picks them up and gives her best innocent expression to the camera.] Don’t worry so much!

...of course I haven’t.

[As innocent as a lamb~

Sam squirms and gulps.]

Hey, is your feed on?

[Snickt.] Nope.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

We're just in my room if you want to stop by.

[At which point this will turn into a three way thread, most likely. Though hopefully she'll have finished Sam's hair in a few moments.]

I'll be there shortly. And I'll help you properly dispose of everything afterward.

Thanks, Simon. It's appreciated.

Any time.

[And in light of his conversation with Sam, he'll have a sheepish knock on his door some time soon after. AVON CALLING.]

[The tall-ass dude is hot on her trail, too, rubbing his bruised face with a grimace.

Paging Dr. Sexy.]

[And Simon was waiting to open the med lab door, ushering them both in with a concerned look on his face.]

What happened to the two of you?

Ah... things got a little violent at one of the bars, that's all.

[Nami figures she's good, she's been hurt way worse, so Simon can look at Sam's hand first-- which means once she's inside she'll find a place to sit out of the way.]

[Ah, yeah. He waves his good hand nonchalantly.]

Couple of dumbasses at the bar I work at; too rowdy to stick around.

We did pretty good, I like to think.

[Simon smiled and gently took Sam's damaged hand, taking off the bandaging he and Nami had applied to examine it with an expert eye.]

Bar fights can and have turned out much worse, I know. Where I come from, most establishments that serve alcohol can make their windows and mirrors intangible so people are not hurt by broken glass. Does anything feel broken? That question is to borh of you.

I'm in tip top shape! When it comes to bones, anyway. [Her answer is immediate and she's quite sure of that. For Nami, it's mostly superficial except for the long cut on her arm and a newly stitched hairline welt.]

[Sams mostly just got his jaw boo boo, freshly slapped with a large bandaid, and his wrapped up hand in need of stitches and some tender love and care. But he does look sheepishly between the two.]

My hand hurts, mostly. Nothing broken there.

...

Maybe a bruised rib or two?

Edited 2016-02-19 10:23 (UTC)

Good, if nothing's broken... I feel like you two are very well-off, considering. This hand wound is going to need stitches, however- I assume you're OK going without anesthetic?

[Nami's look goes from a flat one at Sam because you didn't mention your ribs, you jerk to a wince at the idea of no anaesthetic. Not that pirates generally have a lot in the way of such things, but--]

What, no glass of whiskey?

[~pirate~ anaesthesia, really.]

... Actually, yeah, whiskey isn't uncommon.

But I think I'll make it.

[SMILE.

It's okay Nami Sam's pain tolerance is weird.]

I am not sure we even have whiskey to begin with. [Simon winked as he washed his hands, then put on a fresh pair of rubber gloves, threading a needle.] Perhaps Atroma will provide some whiskey-flavored gel for future emergencies? It might even have a tiny bit of alcoholic content. [And with that, he began to sew the wound shut with practiced fingers.]

[If she'd known you had bruised ribs SHE WOULDN'T HAVE PUSHED YOU OUT OF THE CHAIR. Jeez. Nami hops up from the room and leaves abruptly while Simon speaks. She might be angry!!

...or actually, she might just be taking a quick as hell detour to her room to bring back the bottle of whiskey she has stashed there, thrusting it toward Sam on re-entry. It's like eighty per cent gone, but it's not like you need a lot. Drink up.

Or she will. One of the two. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯]

[As Simon works on his hand, he'll find Sam is a model patient; doesn't budge much at all, even without the anesthetic. It's a familiar pain, one that Sam's inflicted on himself before on purpose, though usually the other hand -- which, if Simon had caught a glimpse at, he'd notice the heavy scarring on his other palm. It was handy to keep the hallucinations at bay, when he was tripping pretty heavy stones, you know?

When Nami offers the whiskey, he offers a smile, taking the bottle.

One of his little 'thank you' smiles.]

So, where are you from, Simon? First time really meeting you, figure I ought to know a little more about the doctor keeping me from getting infections.

Ah- thank you, Nami. I have actual anesthetic, but... I suppose the old ways work sometimes, hmm?

[Simon nodded as he worked, glad that Sam was a calm patient- but given that he'd mentioned working on himself before and seemed to have a lot of scars, he'd had to get used to the pain, no doubt.]

Myself? I'm not even from Earth, so I suppose we will begin with that. I am also from 2517.

Anesthetic you're not using. [Which is an arch observation, but you know, if you guys want to be manly men and not use it that's totally your call. Besides, she figures she owes Sam a drink for dragging him into her mess.]

...you're a long way in the future for most people.

[Pffft.]

Who needs anesthetic? We're warriors, right? Bar warriors.

[Come on Nami, we did great. He winces, shifting a little. Physical pain is still kind of a weird thing, so different from eternal suffering in hell. You know? It's two different beasts. This sharp burn isn't too bad, though.]

Makes sense to dull it with more alcohol.

[His eyebrows quirk.]

If you're not from earth, where are you from?

[Simon smirked at Sam's bravado.]

I am not in the business of administering anesthetic if the patient refuses it, in either case. If they would rather grit their teeth, I will happily patch them up either way.

[He then nodded.]

I have gotten used to hearing that people come from centuries before I was born by now, but... it is still strange. I am from a planet called Osiris- by my time, humanity has long ago used up and left Earth.

[Nami just gives Sam a Look, but she lets it go. Drink ur whiskey, manly man.]

And you already travel via ship to different places, right? Do you ever find really backwater planets?

[She's thoughtful on this score.]

Well, that sounds like something humanity would do.

[Sam thinks it'd probably be his fault in some way.

But he won't voice this, because Nami would probably give him even more Looks.]

It was inevitable, honestly- even with all the measures taken to save the planet, room and resources were running too thin to sustain humanity any longer. We needed a place to expand to.

[And the stitching done, Simon applied a clean dressing to the wound.]

And yes, my crew tended to stick the backwater sort of places, actually. My captain wanted to stay far away from the government's reach.

Snip Snap

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