WHO: Friar Tuck, Will Scarlet WHEN: Sunday afternoon WHERE: Hyrbis' and then parsonage WHAT: !!!!! WARNINGS: TBA
Tuck's eyes fluttered open and immediately he groaned because it seemed like the room was spinning. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, willing the spinning to stop. As he lay there, he couldn't help thinking that as the room was spinning it had looked awfully unfamiliar. He let out another soft little moan, and chanced opening one eye.
So far so good.
He opened the other and tried to sit up, and that was when he discovered that one of his wrists was handcuffed to a metal bedframe. The metal of the cuff scraped against the frame and Tuck blinked up at it questioningly. His brain was still too foggy to be scared of what was happening. He could only think in dot points. Strange room. Handcuffed. Dizzy. So thirsty. He wound his tongue around in his mouth and tried to summon up some moisture but it was hard going.
He lay there, just letting his mind clear, and with clarity came fear. Oh god, what was happening? Where was he? He couldn't sit up unless he was right against the headboard, so he inched his body upright, using the frame for support. The room was dim and pretty empty, but there was a sort of vanity beside the bed that Tuck glanced over at.
Right, okay, he had to think. And it was so difficult. What did he remember from the night before? Talking to Judas. Drinking. Judas leaving. Nothing.
Right, he could piece it together once he was out of here.
Tuck had never been quite as good at picking locks as Alan was for sure. He didn't have musician fingers. But he was still pretty damn good at it. He inched over in the bed and examined the lock on the cuffs warily.
As long as he could find the right tools. He glanced back over at the vanity and then, with great effort since his body still felt mired in quicksand, he crawled over closer to the wooden vanity and started searching meticulously through the drawers. He had to inch them open quietly, lest he draw the attention of...someone...
God, was he here willingly? Unwillingly? Fucking hell, he didn't remember.
Searching the last drawer required stretching his body out and leaning down, the cuff cutting uncomfortably into his wrist. It was victorious though. He found a bobby pin by rooting around, and immediately he sat up again, biting off the plastic ends and spitting them out so he was just left with the wire. It was a bit of an odd job, since he had to lean up a bit when he needed two hands. He was able to finally bend the bobby pin into the right shape and wiggle it around in the lock, until he heard it unclick.
He stood, unsteady on his feet, and he found his phone and wallet on a chair on the far side of the room. He tried the door but it was locked.
It was beginning to look like he was here unwillingly...
With a groan, Tuck moved to the window and he pulled open the curtains. Daylight streamed into the dim room, and he was able to note he was on the ground floor. And then, with a bit of delighted surprise, he pushed on the window and it opened.
Oh thank fuck.
Tuck climbed out the window into an alleyway, rather less gracefully than he usually would have done, and he sort of stumble ran towards the road. He just had to get somewhere safe. Somewhere public. He could figure out where to go to from there. Which is how he found himself darting across the road to the tiny bodega across the street, and calling a taxi from there.
By the time he managed to walk up the parsonage path on unsteady legs, it was about 2pm. He had missed morning service. God, what did Will think had happened?! Was he panicking again? He let himself into the parsonage and called out for his partner. "WILL!" he yelled, his knees sort of giving out as soon as he crossed the threshold. He slammed into the floor hard and he stayed there, his heart in his chest.