driftfleet | April System Mingle

[It hasn't even been a full day yet.

So goes the thought in Rip's head as he is thrown into a jail cell, and in truth, he's not even sure how the bloody hell it happened. It felt like he'd only just gotten off the shuttle when he got caught up in some sort of ruckus, wrong place wrong time, but apparently that's not a thing they care about in this particular corner of outer space so much as "arrest first, ask questions never."

They haven't even bothered to take off the damn handcuffs.

He's just settled onto the bench, leaned against the wall, his head rolled back when the door opens again, and honestly? Rip barely bothers to look open, because the chances that someone is there to let him out just don't exist at this point. They can't. Not in this ongoing nightmare of sheer ridiculousness, and oh look, now he has company.

Hello company. Have an frustrated British guy in a cowboy's duster looking in your general direction.]

All right, all right -- keep your hands off my particulars, gentlemen!

[Jack gets shoved into the cell and stumbles rather gracefully about until coming to rest beside Rip. Maybe too close beside him.]

Mestons! They don't even take the irons off a man, do they? [He directs this complaint at Rip, hoping for some commiseration. Bloody cuffs.]

[Well, yes, go right ahead and settle in. It's not like Rip was making use of that personal space or anything.]

...Apparently not. [He closes his eyes, once more tilting his head back to lean it against the wall behind them.] Should I ask what you got thrown in here for, or did they not bother to tell you either?

Me? I'm in for hijacking an all-terrain-vehicle and stealing this from the butcher's.

[His vest pops open to reveal an Ung. It werfs at Rip and snuggles back into Jack's clothing.]

Heh! He's very squishy and cuddlesome. Couldn't bear to see him get the chop. Named him Posy. You?

[This does get Rip to look over, just in time to see--something. He frowns briefly at the wrinkly thing that this man has apparently opted to liberate.]

"Cuddlesome" isn't the first word to come to mind. [Squishy, however, he can see.]

I think someone was trying to cut in line, but bloody hell if I actually know. [Certainly not for stealing, which is what both of Jack's charges amount to.] A row started, and then security showed up and started slapping cuffs on everyone nearby.

Apparently they're quite eager when it comes to keeping proper order in a queue.

Bugger their queues. BUGGER YOUR QUEUES! [This is shouted at a passing guard, who sees fit to tase the pirate with a zap from some hidden weapon.]

OUCH!

Oi! [Doesn't this just keep getting better? Rip doesn't know Jack from, well, jack, but he's becoming less of a fan of their keepers by the minute.

He stops short of saying anything else, however, opting instead to exchange a dirty look with the guard before the man moves on.]

You alright there? [Him and Posy, since the little wrinkly thing might have gotten struck as well.]

[Posy flurfles. A paw reaches out to stroke Jack's cheek. It will be okay, pirate.]

Nng. Never better. Like being struck by lightening. Bet the food is pants, too.

Right. I expect we'll have to get out of here, eh? Already stayed too long.

[...Alright, maybe he can start to see where Jack had gotten cuddlesome.

Rip really doesn't need to long to jump on the notion of escape. He might normally be opposed to a jailbreak with someone he only just met, and a self-confessed thief at that.

But the food probably is pants, and Rip's got no desire to suffer for the sake of orderly queues.]

Lovely thought, but we might have a few problems to consider first. [For an obvious first? Rip shakes his hands, making the cuffs jingle.] These, then the guards, the tasers they're apparently carrying, the locked door--

[Really, Rip's not opposed to the thought! It's just the how that's not immediately apparent.]

The opportune moment will come -- that I'm sure. It always does.

[The cuffs ARE a problem. But...]

First things first, eh? Any chance you'd mind cozying up to my backside? I could do yours, and then you could do mine.

[HE'S TALKING ABOUT UNDOING THE CUFFS, BACK TO BACK.]

[ w o w ]

Is there anyway you could've made that sound more torrid? --No, wait, don't answer that.

[Because it might be yes.

Rip huffs out a sigh, but since he does get what Jack meant, he'll shift on the bench to turn away from the man.]

Rip Hunter, by the way. [He looks over his shoulder, scooching back towards Jack.] Since we're apparently about to get rather close.

Captain Jack Sparrow.

[He scooches back the other way, fumbling for the other man's cuffs.] I've got a bit of iron up my sleeve. Keeps the fairies away.

Or that's what I tell 'em.

[Mostly it's to pick locks in this very situation, however.]

I reckon you hail from the Fleet? You're not orange.

Good to know you've come prepared.

[Yeah, Rip's pretty sure it's not for fairies at this point. Little to do about it, however, considering he's already agreed to the jailbreak.

Well. Aside from trying to maneuver his cuffs into Jack's hands.]

Indeed, though only as of yesterday. [Congrats, Jack; you're officially partnered with the newest guy around.] And what of you? Does "Captain" mean you head one of the ships?

Of the Black Pearl, aye -- but none here. Cap'n Cersei's Captain of the Bishop.

She's terrifying. Loves stitching things. Gorgeous. Stab you in the heart.

Oof.

[He's got one of your cuffs open, Rip.]

[He's rather good at this, isn't he? Unfortunately Rip really isn't, so it's going to take him a bit longer. With that thought in mind, he turns around with the cuff still dangling from one wrist.]

We'll worry about the other one later. [He says by means of explanation for the sudden movement. He plucks the iron bit from Jack's hand, casting a weary look towards the door before turning his attention to Jack's shackles.

Especially since he doesn't know exactly what he's doing. At all.]

--Sounds like I should be glad I was assigned to the Caprine. [Particularly considering how often people wind up punching him. Although the description isn't entirely unfamiliar, save for perhaps the sewing.]

She doesn't happen to be blonde, does she? [Really, it's just idle talk while Rip works, but he can't quite keep himself from asking.]

[Jack gets punched a lot, too. Punch-friends?]

She is. But I know a brunette that could probably take her on.

[Elizabeth Swan vs. Cersei? Hmmmm...]

[Perhaps it is meant to be!]

The one I'm thinking of is blonde too. Someone from home. [Someone who probably would have had the locked picked by now, bloody hell why is this so complicated?] A woman you truly would never want to make an enemy out.

[And who has, by coincidence, punched Rip in the face. Twice.

Oh, but there's a click as he continues to fiddle with the lockpick! Clicks are good, right?]

Mate -- I feel your pain. Did she join the Fleet as well?

[Because that could be awkward for this poor fellow. Jack knew that type of woman well. Angelica, after all. And...why is this cuff-picking taking so long? BUT THEN A CLICK. Jack makes like Taylor Swift and shakes it off!]

Brilliant!

Edited 2017-04-17 01:01 (UTC)

No. She is, thankfully, exactly where she is meant to be.

[Because as much of a comfort as Rip might find Sara Lance's presence to be, he's not inclined to wish this upon her.

(And not only because she would never let him hear the end of it if she knew Rip had gotten arrested.)

But now all talk of their respective blondes and brunettes ends; Jack is free, thank goodness.]

We've likely got two minutes at most before the next round of guards--so I truly hope you've got a plan.

Aye!

[It might be a bit unexpected when he shouts.] GUARD! HELP! HELP! BEES! BEES!

[More than a bit. Rip starts to hiss out an insistent demand to know just what the hell Jack is doing--but it dawns on him:

The guards would be able to open the door.

Huh. Well then.]

--Right, yes. Massive bees! Threatening, angry bees!

[And sure enough, here they come.

Guards. Not the bees.]

GETOFF! GETOFF ME, BEES!

[The guards are starting to hurry, now. Jack is whacking at himself, at Rip, at everything with his hat.]

NAUGHTY BAD BEES!

[Frightened, the guards shove the keys in the lock. Someone calls for a hose. Shouting and confusion reign. Now all Rip and Jack have to do is charge out and give everyone the slip.]

[Clearly Jack is nothing if not enthusiastic about all this, dancing around and lashing out with his hat (which earns him a sour look from Rip, for the record, because really? Really?) And it would seem to pay off, as the guards frantically work the door open. Now it's just a matter of working their way through the mass of bodies and confusion, and they'll be able to slip out—

But wait. What was that about a hose?

Rip has almost made it to the door, which puts him squarely in the line of fire when some terrified guard turns on the spray. He's not expecting the solid impact of water that hits him dead on and sends him stumbling back. It's as much out of shock as it is force, and Rip lets out a startled cry as he's suddenly soaked and smacked in the head once more with a pirate's hat.]

Would you bloody cut that out?! [Hard to tell who he's shouting at, given that Rip's got his arms up to try and keep the water from getting in his face. Spoilers? He's yelling at all of them.]

GENTLEMEN! [Jack roars. Overreacting to bees had been the start of the plan, but he'd never counted on a high-pressure hose.] You're drowning my cellmate! He's dying!

[He hops nimbly over an advancing guard, snatches a sword from an unsuspected gawker, and lunges for the hose, which he neatly slices apart. This sends the hose wildly swinging around and basically soaking everyone to the point of knocking people on the ground. It's the perfect opportunity to run.

Ahead is a hallway. At one end, the advancing shadows, noisy footsteps, and clamor of more guards hints that reinforcements are coming. The other end is quiet. Jack runs toward the quiet end, expecting that Rip will either follow, or make his own way out, or perhaps continue to be incapacitated by water.]

I am NOT dying! [Dear lord, Rip Hunter is a bloody Time Master from the twenty-second century, or he was, and either way the point is that he is not drowning just because they've gotten a bit happy with a hose.

So there. :|

That doesn't mean, however, that Rip isn't thankful when the spray is a bit less directed. When he can finally look over to see the source--well, it's really hard to say, given the chaos still unfolding. But Rip does catch sight of Jack's rather distinctive form dashing ahead, and far be it from Rip to lag behind.

Even if he is completely drenched. And has to punch a guard who manages to grab hold of the blasted cuff still dangling from his arm.

The point is, he does follow, and quickly at that. Rip's got speed on his side--squishy boots full of water, yes, but that's not going to stop him from getting out of this bloody place.]

Option A!

Gotcha!

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