Test Drive #7 - Ten Forward and Captain's Yacht

[ten_fwd_mods]

Option 01. Ten Forward: The first thing you see is a bar. A large, lively bar filled with many different faces and many different smells, sights and sounds. This is Ten Forward, the Enterprise's off-duty lounge; feel free to get acquainted with your fellow travelers and try to find somebody who's in charge: this is your new home now, after all...





Option 02. The Captain's Yacht: Oooh, you sneaky stowaway! You've found yourself in a very exclusive part of the ship: Captain Picard's personal craft, used for short jaunts when a shuttle just won't do. (One must retain some decorum, after all.) It may not be as large as the Enterprise itself, but there are sure to be some surprises aboard once people start snooping.


[OOC: The Captain's Yacht is located at the very base of the Enterprise's saucer portion, so if you put someone in there you can also play them trying to get back to somewhere they know!]

Comments

ugh I tagged this yesterday and my computer ate it so mad

[fishermansweater]

When his hand closes around the man's wrist, it does at least seem to get some reaction, even if it's just to pull back away from Finnick. The man is icy cold to the touch, and Finnick knows better than to manhandle him, so he lets him pull back.

It would be easy to lie to the man, to tell him that whoever she is is safe, just for the sake of calming him down, and Finnick's more than capable of it, but it wouldn't do any good, because he'd expect to be able to see her.

"Whoever she is, she's not here. You're not where you were."

The man's disoriented, clearly worried, but they can't focus on that worry. They can't do anything about whoever he left back home, but this man needs help, or he'll die.

"You're not well," he says. "We need to get you warm."

And a doctor. Assuming there are some in this place.

[walfordpsychopath]

"I'm fine!" He hisses, insistant that he is. "I don't need help. I'm not sick!"

He moves to start walking again, stumbling, grabbing the back of a chair to keep his footing. The shivering returns, his jaw chattering.

"What...What's going on? Where the hell am I?"

[fishermansweater]

"Oh, you're not shivering? You're not clumsy? You haven't just been in freezing water?"

Finnick's clear eyes are sharp on the man's face, his voice sarcastic, because it's clear to anyone who cares to see it that the man is all of those things, and the grasp of his cold, wet wrist was enough for Finnick to guess about the water.

He'd watched tributes die from hypothermia one year in the Games; he knows what he's seeing.

"I'm not sure where we are myself. But you've been brought here from wherever you were."

[walfordpsychopath]

"Impossible."

He says that through the fuzziness of his brain. Through the pain in his chest, that was only getting worse... A voice, clear as day, screaming at him that this was all impossible, that he was passed out from being under the water too long, or... something.

"No, no! This isn't real... Is it? This..."

He's trailing off, threading a hand through wet hair, pausing, pulling it away and looking at the moisture on his palm.

"I was... in the lake. Roxy, she..." She's safe... Ronnie got her out. He saw that.

[fishermansweater]

Finnick wouldn't disagree with the impossible part, but the impossible seems to be what's happened here, though he can't understand why, or how, still can't trust it isn't some extra game of the Capitol.

"I don't know if it's real," he says. "But I know enough about being in and around water to know that lake was too cold. You need to let me help you, or things are going to get worse. We need to warm you up."

He holds out a hand to the man again, in a silent appeal, lifting his eyebrows.

That's the problem with hypothermia: when it's bad, the person doesn't want any help. No matter how much they need it.

[walfordpsychopath]

Sean pauses. He considers the hand in front of him, every fibre of his fuzzy brain screaming at him to ignore it, to continue on, struggle through and get this sorted.

He doesn't. He glares at Finnick's hand, panting heavily, finding it a tad hard to breathe. For the longest moment, he considers it, fighting his brain, that one spark of common sense struggling in the deluge.

It wins.

Sean reaches out, grabbing the hand.

[fishermansweater]

The hand on his is cold, but Finnick's grip is steady and warm, offering what silent reassurance it can, if any of it will get through.

"You've got the symptoms of hypothermia," he says, his voice soft, boyish, its accent completely unlike that of the man he's speaking to. He's never heard an accent like this man's, and maybe he's heard nothing like the faded District Four accent.

"You should lie down. I'll get you warm and find you some medical help. All right?"

[walfordpsychopath]

He shakes his head, not wanting to lie down, but he does move, unsteadily, to a nearby chair and sinks into it, leaning forward onto the table.

He squeezes his eyes shut, the shivering starting again.

"W-What the bloody 'ell's goin' on?"

He manages to get out, fighting to control his chattering lips.