Who floored me? Who: Kirk, Scotty, Sulu, Gaila What: Morning After! Hangovers ahoy! Sulu gets his engine nabbed. Kirk is a playa. When: Morning after the big bar brawl Where: Santa Ana. Repair shop. Rating: PG-13, Language. Status: Complete, part 1 of 2
One could always tell they had a good night out, when there was that pre-waking haze. That sort that pretty much dictated that anything past the haze, was going to amount to feeling like a bag of smashed arseholes. Scotty was just moving past it, and regretting it a wee bit, already.
Jim groaned. His abs hurt. His face hurt. Really everything hurt. He tasted blood. What had happened?
“Ugh, me aching face,” groaned Scotty, still facedown on the bed he’d pretty much landed on and immediately passed out into. Hadn’t moved an inch. But now, he had to, and was peeling his face off the pillow, noticing a bit of dried blood left behind. Eww. He scrunched up his nose and touched a fingertip tentatively to his lip. At least it was past the stinging so-bad-you-have-to-hiss-at-it phase. And luckily the swelling had gone down some. Little recompense, as the simple act of moving caused bodily protest on a massive scale.
Not from the drink, naturally, but from the brawling.
It was a floor, Jim decided. He was laying on a floor.
“Last time I pass out, face dewn,” the Scot mumbled, trying to roll over onto his back in a bed he wasn’t yet used to, and was pretty much made only for one (and maybe a half) people. He flopped over and miscalculated, sliding off the edge of the bed and landing on the floor with a painful sounding thud.
And that wasn't just a hangover. Jim found something shiny and stared at himself, without moving from the floor, "Shiiiit who floored me?"
Meanwhile, Scotty was using the bed as leverage to get up on his feet, shaking his head out to clear the proverbial cobwebs. He finally took his welding goggles off, now that they'd left a nice imprint of the strap on his neck. Luckily he'd scooted them around in his sleep somehow, so the lenses were at the nape of his neck and not over his throat. Or that would’ve been really uncomfy. So, there were other people there!
He squinted after hearing that voice, trying to place it, then brusquely nodded like OH RIGHT! It came back to him what happened last evening, for the most part. Painful memories though they might be, it was rather funny also.
“...actually, laddie, ye should ask, how many floored you. Care for some coffee?”
Oh god, when did it get so bright. He turned in the direction of the audial pain that was Scotty's voice, squinting like 'y4uturnonlight?!' "We didn't do it, did we Scotty? That happened to a ..friend of mine once."
Scotty blinked profusely and mutely pointed over toward where the sleeping man was on the couch, in a silent reminder to keep it deeooown naaooow, okay? Doing it? What? Where did that come from? He thought he’d remember something like that, if it had happened. After a short (and hushed) laugh, he drew in closer and crouched down to get a closer look at floor guy’s face, which looked like it had made out with the bumpers of several oncoming cars. Sure didn’t seem to be faring any better than he, himself, felt. In fact, he only winced like it just looked like it hurt.
“Nuh, we dinnae,” was the softly spoken but reassuring reply. “Just had a weeeee bit of a rammy at the pub. Did I tell ye me name? Oh, wait, Varric must've said it. Montgomery Scott, but me friends call me Scotty. Afraid I dinnae catch yours though. Whoops.”
Jim winced. He’d given himself a ringing headache. He held out his hand, “Jim Kirk.”
”Nice tae meet ye, Jim. Jimmy? Tae hell with it. Whatever.” He shook the other man’s hand and started to stand, not letting go, and trying to haul Kirk up onto his feet. “Up we gae, then. I'll make us some coffee with a wee hair o' the doggie that bit us. Cure us right up.”
“Better be more than a wee hair.”
A few pats on the shoulder like he was consoling him, and Scotty tried to sound as reassuring as he could, given their...dire sober predicament.
“That's a good lad. It'll be a whole mess o' hair, like one o' them Japanese hot tubbing baboons.” He pointed over to a door that looked like a closet. “Loo's over there, if ye want. Leave the seat up. No girls allowed.” He was like Smirky McSmirktons for a moment there, even if it was wryly done. Enough about that, it was time to get to work making coffee! Sure, a task that minor couldn’t stop the chatting away, but at least he was keeping his voice down. You know, so the other passed out man's skull doesn't explode, since that guy hadn’t woken up yet. “ I'd offer a proper breakfast, but it's likely closer tae noon an' all I have is ramen noodles.”
Man cave: this is it. At least it seems very clean.
“I was in Japan once.” Jim was pretty sure he committed about fifteen counts of statutory rape while there, but he hadn't bothered to ask any of their ages. “Beautiful country, beautiful people.” However, just trying to think in the limited Japanese he'd learned gave him a worse headache.
“Really?” He looked impressed. “Never been, meself. Always wanted tae go, but never had the chance. After Scotland, I just kinda made it o'er here, an' that'd be that.” Scotty started pouring water into the coffee maker, which - yes - he cleaned under yesterday morning. So if it tries to leak, he’ll know, and then it will be getting its guts ripped out for another fix it job. “Is that where ye met Mister Sushi, o'er there? Or whatever his name is, since I hadn't caught it, either.”
It was rather apparently that Scotty was no stranger to letting people crash at his place, especially for those who seemed cool, as well as exciting and fun. Rambuctious exciting and fun, that is.
A grin crossed Jim’s features, “I met him yesterday after my ex threw me out.”
Well that shut him up. Only met him yesterday? Scotty stared incredulously back at Jim, with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. They kinda gave off the sort of brothers in arms vibe, or something odd like that. Not wanting to read more into it (in case there was more), Scotty just mouthed the word ‘Really?’ back at him like that was very interesting (and odd).
“Well, isnae that odd,” he said suddenly, but quietly, with a broad grin. “Or rather, it was fortuitous for ye, since gettin' thrown out by one's ex dunnae sound very fun.”
“Its fun when she's screaming at you in two languages!” Jim laughed. He had an apartment, he was just rarely in it.
“Oh no, it wasn't his sis, was it?” He jabbed a thumb back in the zonked out Asian man's direction. “Say, dae ye even know his name? 'Cause I dunnae. Heh.”
“Sulu...something. Hikaru I think. He happened to be watching and invited me up for coffee. He has this bitching ferret.”
Ferret? Scotty wrinkled up his nose at the mention of rodent type things that could really damage wiring if they set their wee minds to it. He started to take down some unfortunately pink coffee cups from the shelf, while talking in the same low voice.
“I’m sure it's a cute wee bugger but I've never been much in the way of pets. Unless they're small, sit still, dunnae chew on anything, an' require barely any feeding or watering. Think I'm better off with a rock, tae be honest.”
Squinting at the pink cups, Jim felt a growing alarm, “You sure we didn’t do it?”
“Me face is sore, but me arse isn't? So unless ye feel any differently, I'm gonnae have tae say no.” With a chuckle, he started pouring the coffee into the cups. Then there was the bottle of whiskey, which he generously poured in, afterward. “Ye might've been wankered, but I was only halfway there, lad. I remember a fair amount of last night, fair sight more than ye probably do.”
“Damn. The hell was in that stuff?” He ran fingers through hair, “I remember hitting things. That was fun. Getting hit, not so fun. There was a flying midget?”
“Aye. That was Tony. Got thrown about.”
“You knew him?”
“Former volunteer engine polisher an' driver. Horrible, really. I regret that particular explosion. As well as laughing at it.”
“He called you Scooty.” For some reason this was immensely funny to Kirk.
“Tied stilts tae his legs so he cold reach the peddles an'...aye, what was up with that? Good thing I threw him out the door, before ye threw me out on top of him. Ye're dangerous.”
Jim twirled a finger, “It seemed like a good idea at the time, he was impugning yours and Sulu's honor.”
“Laddie?” Scotty was smirking just enough that his lower lip wasn’t stinging from the now healing cut. “I think ye were jus' lookin' for a fight.”
He handed Jim a cup of thoroughly doctored coffee. “Bottom’s up.”
Feigning hurt, Jim took the cup.
“Oh nuh uh, I know ye're not hurt one bit over throwin the first punch. Ye were all tae eager. Now, take the coffee and drink it down, ye'll feel better. It's me mum an' dad's recipe.”
The coffee consisted of two parts coffee to one part whiskey. One sip would lead anyone to conclude that Scotty’s family (immediate and extended) were raging alcoholics.
Deciding the drink was his savior, Kirk took a long swig, then coughed.
Scotty toasted with the cup and began to drink it, like it was only water.
“God. Damn.” He downed it!
“I come from a long line o' prolific Scot drinkers. Ye never had a chance of winnin' last night,” was the pleasantly conversational reply.
“Didn’t matter, still got drunk. It was fun.” Seemed to be his motto ‘was it fun y/n?’
“Aye, it was. We should do that again, sometime. Though maybe not at Varric's so often, or he's gonnae kick us out for wreckin' the place up, tae much.” He made a face while drinking his coffee. Not because of the liquor in it. Nope, it was just that it would be bad news if they wrecked up Mad Dogs some more, since it was so conveniently close.
“We could hit up other bars.” Smirk, “Literally”
“We could. Gonnae end up in hospital at some point or other, as well.” He snerked between sips and shook his head. “Not that I haven't been there an' done that.”
At the memory of some things he’d done, Scotty whistled into the cup very softly, and just enough for a faint echo to be heard. He raised his eyebrows as though he was remembering those doozies, tipped his head back, and then down the hatch the rest of the coffee went. Yay for coffee! He was starting to feel 50% more human again.
“Ever have a nurse while laid up in a hospital? I could be your wingman.”
What? He nearly dropped his cup on the floor, luckily it was empty and he’d caught it, since the noise could’ve woken up the room’s other occupant. Being quiet was ridiculously difficult for him, even with a hangover. He stared at the other man, incredulously.
“Jimmy, me good lad, ye dunnae want me as your wingman.” That would be such a huge mistake, that Scotty started chuckling at the mere thought. “I'm shite at it. Ask Varric.”
“No no. Scotty.” Jim clapped a hand on his shoulder, “I'll be YOUR wingman. No offense, you need one.”
That was a truly horrifying thought. Not in the sense of true fear, but...no, it was horrifying on several different levels. He stared down at the hand on his shoulder, as if it was a tentacle and belonged to some hentai rape creature from another galaxy. Still keeping his eyes on that hand, his chin tipped down toward his chest ever so slightly, and Scotty directed his gaze up toward Kirk’s face. It was the universal expression of not being sure if that guy was for real or not, and wondering if he could sprout a tentacle for an arm. After all, he had asked, twice, if anything had happened between them last night.
“Really. I dunnae think that's gonnae happen. I'll let ye know if my plans change.” Wow, Scotty was thinking, this guy is unstoppable. What a freak!
“Just think about it, “Life isn't fun if all his friends aren't getting laid too. “So you run a garage? Whats that monstrosity in the corner? ..Is that a robot?”
Scotty nodded and smiled a little, but only because he didn't know what to make of this fellow, who seemed like a good enough buddy buddy pal type. That’s a good lad, that sort of thing. Kirk also seemed like he was a metric arse ton of trouble. Scotty, on the other hand, has always been relatively predictable in his habits, always had been. And that was even if - like any good Scotsman - he was never going to back away from a fight or an argument, and could drink anyone and their grandmother under the table. It was mostly stay home, fix or build things, and read pdf technical manuals and physics theories when he had net access available. But, the robot. Yes. Perfect way to get his own mind off new and bizarre events, as well as give Kirk something to focus on so they weren’t spitting their own teeth out, an hour from then.
“Aye, but it's more of a repair shop. I can build or fix more than simply cars an' whatnot. But that's her.” He was beaming with pride already, and almost split his lower lip back open, because of it. Time to tone it down a bit. Slight smirk? That worked.
“She's beautfiful!” He was pressed against the window of the loft peering down like a kid looking at a glass case of candy, complete with nose smushing.
“What else can you build?” Visions of rocket cards and boats and ships danced in his head, “I want a rocket bike. A motorcycle with a backup rocket propulsion system. Or a boat. I want to get a sailing ship sometime. Maybe we could build one.”
“Dunnae get ye sights set tae high. That takes money, which I dunnae have. But I could built ye a bike with a jet engine on it.” Oh that right there, was the best idea ever. His eyes lit up with wicked glee, just imagining it.
Jim pumped his fist into the air! “FUCK YEAH. I have some cash saved up, and it'll be survival season again soon. I take people out into the wilderness and teach them not to die.”
That seemed impressive and suitably dangerous for Jim Kirk, or so thinks Scotty, who's dangerous times are reserved for merely shooting his mouth and opinions off, and a few thrown punches. He also seemed to be a bit more mindful of other people’s hangovers, whereas Captain CrackRabbit had forgotten.
“Shhh, he’s still asleep,” Scotty made a finger-against-lips gesture and shushed softly. He made for the world’s worst librarian. “His head's gonnae feel like it's split intae two pieces when he wakes up. Cannae hold his liquor. Any ~hoooow. I build things. That's all. Just build things. Aye.”
“Yeah, but he seems like a cool guy.” He pondered the sleeping man, “I think Sulu is a pilot. He mentioned it at the star party. He could test your shit.” There goes Kirk, volunterring other people.
“Well. I s'pose so. Aye. If I ever build anything that needs tae be tested, maybe I could phone him up.” Rubbing a hand over one side of his neck, Scotty twisted his head to one side and squinted. The entire thing just looked painful, but really it was more of a mental pain, than physical. Of the sort where he was trying to remember something that was far beyond the reach of his memory. “Couldnae hurt.”
Naturally, Scotty decided to keep quiet about the tragic NASA stuff, and the engineering as well. For now, at least. Summarizing worked very well, sometimes: “I mean, I am good at building things.”
“I believe you.” that settled that. He really, really did.
“Testing's another story, it'd be nice tae get feedback, now an’ then.” He stopped and stared at Kirk, strangely. It was nice that at least someone believed him, but wasn’t a bit ‘do not know u well yet’? Really? Screw it, he just said it outloud, “Really?”
“I'm not a pilot, but maybe I could help out somehow.”
Meanwhile, a girl and her clitty were enroute. Cass hadn’t slept much. She’d realized it was 2am and crawled into bed. She’d woken early, showered and put on a skirt and top she didn’t mind getting ruined, found her most sensible shoes and then headed to Scotty’s.
“Aye, maybe ye could. Somehow. Here, ye got a phone?” He dug one hand into his back pocket, pulled his phone out and began touching the screen, to get to the address book. “We can trade numbers an' maybe ye can test things.”
Kirk flipped his phone open like he was on that one show and grinned, adding Scotty.
Ha ha, flip phone, that’s silly. Scotty grinned and leaned in, starting a new entry with Jimmy boy's name there. In the notes he was certain to write in bloody nutters outdoorsman, just so he could be certain of who's who. EVERYONE had a note, in his phones. Some of the notes were profoundly unflattering. Number exchange! They’re doing it. Just the digits, please.
Jim thought Scotty looked awesome all bloodied up, so he took a picture for his contact list, then gave the man his number.
That picture was going to be unflattering, since Scotty was giving him a profoundly strange look when it was taken. It was along the lines of WTF ARE YE DOING, YE DAFT MADMAN into the camera, all scuffed up and everything.
Two could play at that game, though. Scotty held up his phone, real close to Kirk’s face, and took a picture of Jim’s gigantor shiner. He smiled like it was fair game.
“We needed pictures for the contacts,” Jim clarified.
“Aye. I'll remember ye now.”
The younger man gave him a shit-eating grin.
The same shit eating grin was on Scotty’s face, even though reining it in was a bitch of a task. Regardless, he decided that Jim guy was wierd and infectious, like..probably what he'd imagine a staph infection was like. Where it was hard to get rid of, but just kind of spread everywhere and kept festering. Maybe he could call his auntie Edith and ask her about it, because she had one really bad after a surgery when he was in college. Eww.
“So you're just going to work on the bot? Want to hit a bar later?”
“I'll probably need tae eat at some point.” He did that little slider thing on the phone with a fingertip, so there was no danger of butt dialing on accident, and put the phone away again. “Oh, an shower. Where ye off tae? Gonnae leave Sulu...Hiaku, or whatever...here?”
“I hadn't decided. I should get to my other job, but coming into a dojo looking like this might mean there will be questions.”
“Nuh, not really. Just tell 'em they should've seen the other guys. Plural, not singular.”
Jim grinned, and gave him a fist bump.
Fist bump! Just for good measure, Scotty gave Jim a thumb’s up as well.
Simulataneously, a terrier burst up the stairs yapping its fool head off.
“If ye need a place tae crash until ye get back on ye're feet...then...DOGGIE!” He promptly kneeled down to catch it..oh wait, the volume! Wince.
“You have a dog!” So sayeth Captain Obvious.
”Nuuu, this' not me doggie. It belongs tae....”
“Who's Doggy is it?” At a sound, he turned and immediately affected a charming grin, “Oh hello now.”
“That must have been some party.” Cass stood at the doorway, taking in the trio.
Scotty picked up the dog and eyed them both, suspiciously. He felt a small and sudden sting of hatred for Kirk, because it was like a pimp just showed up and took his place. He could work past it, and answered Cass with a little smirk at the memory, “Aye, it was.”
Cass put her backpack on the ground and eyed Jim. It was both interested and wary. She knew his type. But that was half the fun of his type. No strings, just a good time. But she wasn’t sure she wanted that anymore.
Oh that was great. Lovely. Fantastic. She was kind of giving Kirk the same sort of stare that she gave Varric. Scotty began to wonder how much whiskey he had left. She was always eyeing everyone like she lusted after them. Everyone else, that is. It made him want to smack his own face, hard, with the palm of his hand.
All the sounds in the room sounded like they were hitting Sulu's eardrums, literally. With a gigantic hammer, amplified by some kind of acoustic sound tunnel. He didn't feel so well and laid there for a bit trying to sort through his head. He was on a couch, but not his, and everything hurt. Like, everything. He let out a groan and then stretched a bit, wishing immediately that he hadn't done that, since it was like sharp pointy sticks were poking his back. And his mouth was so much cotton. He hadn't been this hung over since college, "NNnghfaceow..."
He had so been trying to keep things quiet, but with Kirk? That had been a wee bit difficult. Figures it would be a combination of himself and the dog yapping, that woke the dead. He winced apologetically and let the dog back down again. “Sorry, lad. Here. I’ll set things right.”
There goes Scotty, making another hair of the dog coffee/whiskey drink in an unfortunately pink coffee cup.
Sulu wasn't sure if the coffee was going to have real dog hair in it or if it was a euphanism, and he didn't care. Coffee sounded wonderful right about now. Anything that would de-gum his mouth was great, too. He slowly stretched again, then got himself upright. "Nnhnnn. Coffee GOOD," he mumbled like the dead. His hair was sticking up all unsexy like, too. Kind of like a zombie.
Coffee was held out to Sulu. A hot cuppa two parts coffee, to one generous part whiskey.
“There ye are. Drink up, it'll make ye feel much better.” His eyes widened maniacally and he smiled as much as he could. It was the expression of one who was watchful and waiting. The old TRY IT! YOU'LL LIKE IT! IT WILL CLEAN YOUR ESOPHAGUS! stare.
God, that was a lot of sex appeal. Cass found herself gravitating towards Sulu, “You all look like crap.”
Sulu took the coffee mug carefully and immediately held it to his head for a moment before saluting Scotty with it. He took a cautious sip and then then nodded profusely. "HERE we are."
It was just the kind of thing he needed.
Scotty had been nodding at Sulu, but stopped short and was staring instead at Cass. It was the stare of R U SRS?!, because he really just wanted to point at Kirk, then at Sulu, and then keep pointing back and forth like they were participating in a tennis match. For she had just gone from one to the other in under 2.5 seconds!
To hell with it. Before he went trudging off, elsewhere, Scotty announced, “I need more coffee.”
As he was saying that, Sulu deduced that the throbbing pain he was still feeling was in his hand. He took a look down at it and winced at the cuts there, then pressed his warm coffee cup against it with a look like 'maybe this will ease the pain'.
Scotty was downing a second cup of coffee, turned so that he could lean against the kitchen counter, not that there was that much to lean upon. That looked painful, applying the cup to bloodied knuckles. “I dunnae have any ice but...maybe if we pour some scotch on it.”
Because drink fixes everything. Everything HUMAN related, at least. If all else failed, it was down to the pub for some ice. If that Sulu guy looked like he needed some.
Sulu eyedarted, "No, that's ... remind me," he took another sip of coffee and winced again, "Never to hold a glass bottle during a bar fight, unless I'm using it to cut someone with."
He paused, then added, "Not that I would do that. But it should be fine," and with that he saluted Scotty with his coffee mug again.
“Ye looked like ye wanted tae, last night.” He shrugged and made a little toasting motion with the coffee cup. “So...ye're a pilot or something? Jim said so. Blame him if it was tae much information.”
Scotty pointed over in Kirk's direction, even, like it was his fault (just like last night).
Sulu scanned his memory, trying to figure out when he'd ever told Jim he was a pilot, "Uhm... stunt pilot, yes." There was a trace of a proud grin at the admittance.
Scotty shrugged, and thought it was at least mentioned as a maybe sorta kinda thing. “Brilliant. I dated a stunt pilot, for a few weeks. That was good fun. Maybe if I pieced together a few things, ye wouldn't mind testing them. He suggested it.” He pointed toward Kirk with the coffee cup again. The gesture spoke volumes, as though Kirk were the boss or the closest thing to it. That is to say, at the very least, he was when it came to feeding them the most interesting suggestions for potentially chaotic and destructive things to do.
Kirk slapped Sulu on the back goodnaturedly, “You were awesome like Bruce Lee, man! You ever thought about teaching? I work at a self-defense class. And I seem to recall you did piloting. And he does need a tester.”
“I’m Cass. nice to meet you both..” She sounded amused. The dog laughed loudly next to Sulu.
“I dinnae say that, but I said maybe someday...after battle bot. Perhaps. Aye.” Scotty over at the girl with a wagging pointy finger. “That's Cass.” There, introductions.
Sulu winced as Kirk's hand slapped against his back. Blurry memories of a midget beating the piss out of him back there rose to the surface. He mentally shoved the memories away, and nodded in Cass's direction, "Nice to meet you, Cass."
“Jim Kirk.” He took her hand, kissing the knuckles with a charming grin.
Over on the couch, Sulu lowered the uninjured hand to pat pat pat the dog, without even looking. Animals and plants always made him feel more at ease.
Clitty? Totally assaulted Sulu’s hand with his tongue.
The tongue-licking tickled, and was also very slobbery. Sulu mentally told himself that it was incredibly not manly to giggle like a schoolgirl. Instead, he removed his hand and wiped it dry on the blanket he was still curled up in.
“Ye need more coffee, Mr. Sulu?” He didn’t mind. The dog drool had to go somewhere. Nasty clitty.
Jim would disagree, they’re anything but nasty.
Only that one, because it drool oozes too much.
"Oh, thank you!" Sulu nodded up at Scotty and handed the coffee mug back to him, "I don't think I ever actually caught your name in all of that."
There was a pause, and then as if the conversation was slowly starting to catch up to him, he shook his head and added, "Also, no. I havn't thought of teaching a class. I have enough classes to teach as it is."
“Ahh, Montogomery Scott, at yer service. Ye can just call me Scotty, everyone else does.” He took Sulu’s cup and filled it, but - this time - Sulu only gets plain coffee. That is because he’s already gathered he can NOT handle the booze as much as he or Kirk could. He handed it back over with a smile.
It was always good to be polite, and Sulu really liked this guy so it wasn't even hard. He hugged his coffee mug to himself a bit and nodded, "It really IS a pleasure to meet you, Scotty. Maybe next time it won't include a bar fight."
He glanced in Kirk's direction and half smirked, "Except if Kirk is along it probably will."
Taking her hand back from Kirk, Cass wiped it on her pants, “All you three need is D'Artagnan. Or would that be Varric?”
“Likewise,” Scotty said with a cautious smile. “An' aye, he's already wanting tae drink tonight.”
“It doesn't always include a bar fight.”
Sulu snerked a bit, “Name five times.”
Jim eyedarted, and then smirked as Cass snorted.
Scotty was about to ask if D'Artagnan was a short shite but, well, this is more interesting.
“He cannae do it!” he exclaimed, pointing at Kirk.
“Excuse me? What can't I do?” Kirk feigned innocence.
Cass adjusted her skirt, wishing she'd worn something nicer now, instead of her least nice thing for digging through rubbish.
Scotty lobbed the driest look in his arsenal of dry looks in Cassie’s direction, followed with an eyeroll. He didn’t bother speaking until he was finished eyerolling, either. She was just showing off for them, with that skirt adjustment. Eeesh.
“I think wer'e tryin' tae say, we haven't known ye even twenty-four hours, an' we already think you're a bit of trouble.”
“No, no. My honor is at stake. No bar fights. For a week.”
Sulu chuckled softly, "I don't think he's a bit of trouble. I KNOW he is."
“I can do it.”
Cass gave Scotty a confused look.
Continuing his train of thought - which was currently 'providing proof that Kirk, James T is a troublemaker' - Sulu pointed at Kirk with his cup still in hand, "I met this man when his girlfriend was throwing things at him in the street in front of my apartment."
“No, laddie, ye can't.” He ignored the wtf look, so stop that. He was already in trouble before, so he isn't going to make it worse by acknowledging it. As it was, he liked Sulu. He seemed a good, even-keel sort of fellow. Nerves of steel. Great for a test pilot! “I heard. More or less.”
Jim looked between Scotty and Cass, then realization dawned and he burst into a grin. Putting an arm around Scotty, he said, “I still think we should team up and make something AWESOME. It might, you know, impress people.” He elbowed the other man with meaning.
Ok, so Scotty liked Kirk just fine as well, but felt the need to razz him or make jokes. Like it was mandatory. No choice. He sipped coffee while eyeing Kirk warily over the rim of the cup, trying not to spit the coffee back into the cup.
Sulu took a very long sip of his coffee, while looking between Scotty, Kirk, and Cass. Obviously there was something going on here.Determining that Scotty needed a wingman, he helpfully piped up, "OOoh, yes, you should build something. Something that flies and explodes."
He coughed into the cup, mumbling “Aye, perhaps” and kept right on drinking. Coffee saves.
The Irishwoman rolled her eyes, exclaiming, “Whatever it is, it can wait. I came over here for tests!”
“Whoa, I'm clean, I swear”
Sulu, upon hearing that, just facepalmed.
Cass stared at Kirk, her lips forming a thin, unamused line.
“Ugh!” Scotty cringed away from the Kirk and gave him a look like he was insane and gross.
Jim looked at them and laughed.
This line of conversation was so amusing to Sulu that he was actually smiling in amusement under his facepalm. It was probably noticeable.
“Tae much information!”
“Were there tests? Of the 'No, I dunnae have syphilis though it sounds really Victorian' variety?”
Jim gave Cass a lopsided smile. Cass melted a little, then glared at Kirk. She shifted her glance to Scotty with a bit less of a glare, then picked up her pack and pulled out some circuit boards, “The programming? Oh, no. You had crabs, remember?
Jim’s laugh startled the dog.
Oh right, the programming test. “It wasnae crabs, the emergency signal was syphilis. I told ye that already. Besides, I'm gonnae quit cosplaying. Getting tae auld for that shite.” He moved to get a closer look at the boards. “Oh aye, those look excellent! Nice soldering!”
“You got crabs cosplaying?” Jim put an extra foot between him and Scotty.
Completely ignoring the conversation about hot female cosplayers, Sulu instead whipped his head around at the sight of the circuitboards, "Oh interesting, are those for your robot?"
“Aye, they are, an' I'm ignoring ye now, Kirk. Eejit.”
The programmer smiled shyly and brought them over to Sulu, “Yes. Its the programming necessary for it to move and fight. He still needs to get a remote, but for now I'm betting he can rig up something on wires so we can test it.”
Jim’s mind was on something else entirely, “Are the cosplay chicks hot?”
“I can an'....” Scotty simply stopped and turned his head, staring at Kirk like RLY? REELY?!
Sulu cupped the coffee mug in his knees so he could gently take the circuitboards and have a look at them, "You made these yourself? That's really impressive."
“They are really well done. Ye deserve a gude pat on the back. Very nice. I'll see if I can rig things up right quick, but we dunnae have an electric motor for the bot yet. I'd not gotten around tae getting one, an' I read through the rules. It's got tae be electric.” He was pretty sure it'll go boom anyway, because there was going to be the additional fun of flame throwers.
“More like ripped them out of something else.” Cass felt her cheeks fro hot, “I was already building my own computer from assorted spare parts, since I can't really afford to buy one. Clitty there found some parts that helped me finish that and get to work on this. I'm better with software though.”
Jim craned his neck around, choking on his coffee, “Clitty?!”
“My dog!”
Scotty fought off the urge to facepalm. Then, just to contridict her, “Aye. Should name him Bawbag.”
Cass gave Scotty a Bob Barker look.
Scotty glared stubbornly back at her! It is the OH NAE YE ARENAE glare. The room has grown quiet. DOOM.
Bob Barker. Jim got it. Jim had to put his coffee down before he laughed so hard it spilled.
Not even batting an eye at the unfortunate name of the dog, Sulu handed the circuitboards back to Gaila, still impressed, "Yes, very nice anyway."
Cass snapped out of it and took the boards, “Thanks.” Then it sunk in that there was no motor and she looked disappointed, “No motor?”
It took an additional 3 more seconds before the glare faded away. Therefore, he was calling it a win for ball bearers, everywhere. Because he won the glare off. Win!
Ever helpful, Jim volunteered, “Sulu has a hybrid, we could cannibalize that.”
“I dinnae expect ye tae be finished this soon. An'...OH REALLY? BRILLIANT!” He looked like someone just handed him a crackpipe, and he totally forgot about glaring. Now he’s delighted. “Where's it at?”
Sulu blinked, like 'wait a minute, WHAT did they just say?', "... We are NOT cannibalizing my CAR."
She was in a room full of mancandy, all three of them. Unsure what to do with her hands she played with Clitty’s fur and watched them discuss dismantling a car.
Sulu cradled his coffee mug against him, "I'm still making payments, guys..."