tentacruelest | 11th Wave

11th Wave

[Davy is, at last, waking up in the infirmary after his tiff with Stephanie and Kevin. He's restrained to a bed, but his tentacled beard holds his communicator close as he narrows his eyes at the screen, hissing angrily]

Someone best be coming to let me up. Cast me in Zero if yeh like, but let me up to stretch these limbs-!

I didnae kill the whelp, nor his dog. Let me up.

[Private to the Admiral]

[Nothing. Davy doesn't give gifts. He doesn't like any of you]

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[With a grunt, Davy turns his head and sets his comm back down on his chest. He eyes Bush, then gives a nod to his restraints]

He had brittle bones. Release me.

In a moment, Jones.

I hope you're happy. You ought be. You've certainly taught me the error of my ways as regards this liberal-minded nonsense that prevails here-- you shall see a great deal of my true colours in the months to come.

I was given a berth here and a duty-- which I will do. From this moment on I am your gaoler, and where you go I will go. Your ration of rum and tobacco is suspended. You have behaved like a common murderer, not a sea captain, and you'll be treated like it.

[He undoes the restraints. He does not indicate the pistols in his belt: he sees no need to.]

So. Where shall we go, Davy Jones?

[The lack of a 'captain' there is ringingly audible.]

[Jones sits up on the bed once released and turns towards Bush, amused despite himself. He'd been wondering when the man's Naval nature would at last spring forth, instead of, as he says, going along with the more liberal minds populating the Barge]

Your true color, Captain?

[He stands, but slowly; the taser wounded him badly and he's liable to be a bit shaky on both legs]

I had not realized your life was so insignificant that you could so easily put it on hold for my sake.

It is.

[Matter of factly. Duty is paramount.]

I have enjoyed this unnatural idleness, I think. But it ain't healthy forever.

[Jones waves a dismissive claw. He isn't yet taking Bush's meaning seriously]

I was attacked. By two irritating, buzzing flies. They got their due, and I will not apologize.

People, Jones. Two young people. Out for a walk.

[Bush settles back. This is natural for him, more than sleeping eight hours and being idle, walking the seashore and entertaining himself in the gym. A thankless, long task-- this is much more on his level.]

[With a scowl, Jones begins to walk away from Bush, limping about the infirmary and looking it over in distaste]

Out for trouble. I ought t'have killed their pet. Maybe death'll teach them something about leaving men alone who wish to be let be.

Death ain't a teacher.

[Bush follows with an measured stride , staying a few paces behind Jones. ]

[Turning around, Jones scrutinizes his warden]

What are yeh doing?

Escorting you. Ain't it plain?

[Annoyed now, Jones lifts his claw and makes to gently nudge Bush aside]

Escorting me where? I am not after more revenge.

I don't care, Jones. You are a prisoner. You have an escort. [He stands his ground-- smaller than Jones and deceptively short, but with his own burly strength, he cannot be budged without some effort, with Jones' claw weakened as it is.]

Edited 2013-12-30 00:06 (UTC)

[his beard tentacles beginning to curl up in irritation, Jones sneers at Bush and begins to stride away, still stiff-kneed from his earlier beating]

Then I hope yeh can keep up.

[And Bush follows, his dogged shadow.]

[Okay. This is getting old already. By the time Jones makes it to his door, he's turning around every few seconds to glower at Bush.

He twists the handle to his cabin door and opens it, glaring inside]

What is this?

It is your cell, Jones. Have you failed to grasp the whole meaning of 'prison?'

[He lumbers inside, turning around in it. As a relatively tall crustacean, a ten by ten room is exceedingly too small for him. His desk, his organ; everything is gone]

Do yeh think to keep me out of doors? There is no room for you here, Bush.

I shall be just outside. And from the beginning of the first watch till two bells in the second -- [midnight to six in the morning, for the landlubber] -- this door will be locked.

[This is incredibly disturbing...and yet oddly familiar. Jones closes the door, stepping back out into the hall]

And I am to be in my quarters during that time, I expect?

I'm surprised at yeh, Bush. Where are the shackles to accompany this sudden change of action?

You will be here, or you'll be brought here. And the shackles will be arranged if you make them necessary.

Brought here by you?

[Jones turns, making the height difference between them all the more apparent]

Don't go putting on airs now, Captain. I can still kill yeh as easily as I did months ago.

All those months ago you had your full strength and a pistol ball meant nothing to you.

That isn't the case now. And you'll be easy to guard, if you're in the infirmary under the death toll.

[He is out of give, out of good humour; the playfulness that had sprung up between him and Jones is gone like fog burned away by the sun, and he is as much the unyielding man who refused to speak as his bone splintered now as he was then.]

[Interested despite himself, Jones grasps hold of the man's arm. When his intimidation tactics fail to work, he usually dissolves into bullying. That Bush won't kowtow to him is upsetting]

And you'll kill me, will yeh?

Yes.

[With a disbelieving snort, Jones limps his way into his room - his very tiny room - and slams the door in Bush's face.

Even his mun doesn't know what he expects to do in there; there's no books, no music, nothing to entertain him in his solitude]

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11th Wave

Spam - ilu naval gargoyle.

Spam - like being attacked by a fluffy golden retriever

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Captain TL:DR Bush

excuse lack of icons, haven't renewed account yet

Gpoy and Riddick's account

:( this is what happens when you lose your debit card in the snow whilst shoveling

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