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

[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.