allmhadadh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
allmhadadh) wrote2009-08-06 07:25 pm
allmhadadh) wrote2009-08-06 07:25 pm
Entry tags:
Running Free! - [Closed, mercifully]
...a little too free.
The opportunity was one he couldn't afford to miss. It wasn't that he was convinced quite like he was before that he was in mortal danger, but Scotty and confinement didn't get along. For that matter, Scotty and any kind of vulnerability didn't get along. Being vulnerable was the worst state he could be in.
Unfortunately, he went from the proverbial frying pan and into the fire.
The shower wasn't hard to sneak out of, and the guards had been convinced by his not-false modesty that he should be given some space. He really wasn't faking it. Even though he had to deal with crowds in Basic, his natural state was kind of on the private, shy side of things, and so it made him anxious to consider having a bunch of guards watching him in a shower. They, probably convinced by his age and the fact he was only just over five and a half feet tall, had moved off. They might have felt guilty about the ever darkening bruises all down his arms, too, and probably a good number elsewhere from where he was manhandled back to the brig.
He hadn't actively considered escape, though, until after he was clean again and had happened to notice how easy it would be. Namely, crawling across the bottom of the shower room, under the doors, until he reached the vent shaft at the end of the room. So, he did that. Quickly, quietly.
He managed to escape into the vent, and did quite a bit of climbing and crawling before, inadvertently, he came across a vent opening not strong enough to hold his weight.
By then, naturally, he could hear the guards shouting. Heard them quite clearly as he fell through the opening, hanging on for a split second before his hands slipped and he landed with a really painful thud, right on his ass.
Right in the middle of a corridor.
A very well-lit corridor.
At that really bloody bad luck, all he could do was groan, scramble to his feet and start running away from the sounds of boots coming through the corridors with his face on fire and the rest of him on display.
The opportunity was one he couldn't afford to miss. It wasn't that he was convinced quite like he was before that he was in mortal danger, but Scotty and confinement didn't get along. For that matter, Scotty and any kind of vulnerability didn't get along. Being vulnerable was the worst state he could be in.
Unfortunately, he went from the proverbial frying pan and into the fire.
The shower wasn't hard to sneak out of, and the guards had been convinced by his not-false modesty that he should be given some space. He really wasn't faking it. Even though he had to deal with crowds in Basic, his natural state was kind of on the private, shy side of things, and so it made him anxious to consider having a bunch of guards watching him in a shower. They, probably convinced by his age and the fact he was only just over five and a half feet tall, had moved off. They might have felt guilty about the ever darkening bruises all down his arms, too, and probably a good number elsewhere from where he was manhandled back to the brig.
He hadn't actively considered escape, though, until after he was clean again and had happened to notice how easy it would be. Namely, crawling across the bottom of the shower room, under the doors, until he reached the vent shaft at the end of the room. So, he did that. Quickly, quietly.
He managed to escape into the vent, and did quite a bit of climbing and crawling before, inadvertently, he came across a vent opening not strong enough to hold his weight.
By then, naturally, he could hear the guards shouting. Heard them quite clearly as he fell through the opening, hanging on for a split second before his hands slipped and he landed with a really painful thud, right on his ass.
Right in the middle of a corridor.
A very well-lit corridor.
At that really bloody bad luck, all he could do was groan, scramble to his feet and start running away from the sounds of boots coming through the corridors with his face on fire and the rest of him on display.
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*sigh* Whatever, it's cool. No problem. Paying it forward.
You don't know? I know the fucking feeling. *motions to the tangled mess of electronics* Anything I can do to help?
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Okay, I can do that. I've got a sketchy working knowledge of this boat, so tell me what you need, I'll see what I can find in Hikaru's head, okay?
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Replicators make clothes, I think? I don't know, Hikaru mostly just gave me his old stuff, it but it seems right.
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Oh, wait! I think- some of the guest quarters use a generic lock code that Hikaru knows. Come on!
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I hope I don't fuck this up.
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