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allmhadadhAfter pausing on the beach (if a few hours counted as a pause), Scotty went to put his stuff away in the locker and go and find himself the cheapest of accommodations. Namely speaking, somewhere he could sleep unaccosted and with three credits in his pocket, which was about as much as it would cost for him to keep that locker until the Enterprise departed. He figured he would find some sort of odd job tomorrow if possible; he couldn't bring himself to accepting charity, even well-meaning. He'd been fairly self-reliant for a huge chunk of his life, and that wasn't erased in a day. If ever.
He had far less trouble with the idea of sleeping outside than most people would have. There were always places, even in the biggest of cities, that went unnoticed; forgotten spaces, quiet spaces where the flow of foot-traffic and vehicle traffic never went. And that was the sort of place he was seeking out. He was naturally drawn to staying near the sea; he could probably have found something else in the city, but he had come to find the rolling waves and salt-water air as being somewhat soothing.
His spot, as it so turned out, wasn't too far from where he'd slept two nights ago. On the other side of the pier, where there was a high wall and street above, with a railing, there was a naturally built-up stretch of sand. The light of the evening suns flowed under the edge of the pier itself, warming the sand. Best of all, on that spot under the pier, it was way above the tidal marks, and unless someone was standing at the curve of the road and right on the railing above, no one would easily see him. Even less so, when night fell.
Getting down there was a different problem. But after carefully contemplating all of his options, he finally cast a surreptitious look up and down the pier and slipped between two of the buildings close to shore, looking down. It was a hairy climb, but yet again he thanked his Basic Training; he could do it. Getting back up might not be a lot of fun, but he could do that, too. Unless it rained. Then he might have to swim for it.
He climbed over the rail, then hung by his arms, a soft little sound of pain sneaking away from him as his very sore shoulders cried out in protest. But letting go would be something broken, so he just hung on until he could manage to get his legs around one of the support struts. And finally, he was able to shimmy down, albeit it very carefully and slowly.
He could feel the heat radiating off of the pale gold sand here, and it'd be awhile before the last of the light of the suns was gone. After surveying his new 'room' for a little bit, including picking up a very pretty sea-shell that had been long forgotten under the pier, he picked a good soft spot, piling sand up to use as a pillow. It was hot sand, almost to the threshold of tolerance, but not quite over it. But he hollowed a little space out for his body, then curled up in it. And almost immediately, all of that stored up heat started seeping into sore muscles, taking the edge off of pain.
Not a proper bed, no. But right then, with sunlight on him and a natural sort of heating source for a rather battered body, he probably wouldn't have traded it. He was asleep inside of ten minutes.
He had far less trouble with the idea of sleeping outside than most people would have. There were always places, even in the biggest of cities, that went unnoticed; forgotten spaces, quiet spaces where the flow of foot-traffic and vehicle traffic never went. And that was the sort of place he was seeking out. He was naturally drawn to staying near the sea; he could probably have found something else in the city, but he had come to find the rolling waves and salt-water air as being somewhat soothing.
His spot, as it so turned out, wasn't too far from where he'd slept two nights ago. On the other side of the pier, where there was a high wall and street above, with a railing, there was a naturally built-up stretch of sand. The light of the evening suns flowed under the edge of the pier itself, warming the sand. Best of all, on that spot under the pier, it was way above the tidal marks, and unless someone was standing at the curve of the road and right on the railing above, no one would easily see him. Even less so, when night fell.
Getting down there was a different problem. But after carefully contemplating all of his options, he finally cast a surreptitious look up and down the pier and slipped between two of the buildings close to shore, looking down. It was a hairy climb, but yet again he thanked his Basic Training; he could do it. Getting back up might not be a lot of fun, but he could do that, too. Unless it rained. Then he might have to swim for it.
He climbed over the rail, then hung by his arms, a soft little sound of pain sneaking away from him as his very sore shoulders cried out in protest. But letting go would be something broken, so he just hung on until he could manage to get his legs around one of the support struts. And finally, he was able to shimmy down, albeit it very carefully and slowly.
He could feel the heat radiating off of the pale gold sand here, and it'd be awhile before the last of the light of the suns was gone. After surveying his new 'room' for a little bit, including picking up a very pretty sea-shell that had been long forgotten under the pier, he picked a good soft spot, piling sand up to use as a pillow. It was hot sand, almost to the threshold of tolerance, but not quite over it. But he hollowed a little space out for his body, then curled up in it. And almost immediately, all of that stored up heat started seeping into sore muscles, taking the edge off of pain.
Not a proper bed, no. But right then, with sunlight on him and a natural sort of heating source for a rather battered body, he probably wouldn't have traded it. He was asleep inside of ten minutes.
