[closed] I'm not in the swing of things

[alittlesweptup]

Date & Time: 12/7, morning
Location: West Wing housing corridor
Characters: Detainees and their assigned babysitters
Summary: The mutineers (+1 Jesse Pinkman) are released and given into the custody of their respective parole officers.
Warning: ~*~FEELINGSSSSSSS~*~ (daddy issues) and probably some foul language because when is that not a thing.
Notes: Catch-all for cr building if you care to use it, though don't feel obligated to tag here if you'd prefer to do things differently. If you haven't been assigned a parole officer or vice versa yet, no worries - back tagging into infinity will probably be a thing. (Additional Note: I personally fully endorse shameless threadjacking fwiw)


[The morning of the seventh, three weeks from the start of the mutiny and nearly as long since the beginning of most of the detainee's stint in police custody, finds them being officially released into the hands of their willing parole officers. There's no real paperwork, no moment where anyone gets their handcuffs taken off. Confiscated personal belongings are returned, but that's about the extent of anything resembling police formality; everything else probably seems strangely abbreviated (and maybe more than a little anticlimactic) for anyone familiar with how this sort of thing usually goes.]

Comments

[doubleoohbaby]

[The empty cigar pack gets a forlorn sort of stare from Bond.

Pity, he was looking forward to one of them, but it can't be helped. At least he knows where there's alcohol, and with a grunt he decides to let Sully in on the secret.]

Do I have to provide everything around here?

[Long suffering siiiigh.]

I'll sort us out something. Can't promise cigars, but the alcohol should be easy enough.

[hellosailor]

[Believe him Bond, you're preaching to the sad choir.

But Bond's announcement cheers him right up. He smiles, claps his hands together and gives them a brisk rub.]

That's what I'm talking about. You're a goddamn miracle worker Bond.

[But...]

Not that it doesn't sound like a damn-good time, but I think maybe a little more atmosphere would improve the experience. Any chance you want to belay that until we get off this shitty rock?

[Sully had never wanted to be an astronaut- born too late to see the moon-landing as a kid. Space was fine, but give him the Earth any day. Every goddamn grubby corner of it; every seedy, low-down den of inequity and filthy shit-stained street. Give him people, for god sake.]

[doubleoohbaby]

Mm, agreed. I'm eager to get back to Earth as soon as practicably possible. Might need a hand with transporting a few bottles down once we get on the move.

[A few bottles as in a crate of the stuff, but details details. He needs that much alcohol to function. A crate of it might last him at least a day. James might drink a little less when he's got the whole of snowy England to explore, though, where he can get out and about and keep his little mind occupied.]

Any plans for when we're down there?

[hellosailor]

My favorite thing to transport. [Untrue. But near enough.] I'm thinking there should be a flight out tomorrow, they seem to be pretty regular.

[They'd certainly seemed that way when people had started to funnel off. He can't say he'd forlornly watched them go, but had he been a sappier person he might have. Lucky bastards.]

None yet. I'm hoping something will fall in my lap, you never know. But I'd say not freezing to death has to be on the top of the list.

[Here and now, with bare arms and thin pants, it seems like it might be a struggle. But if all else failed he could rely on the kindness of strangers. If that failed, there was always armed robbery.]

[doubleoohbaby]

[Sully's lack of planning has Bond lifting his eyes skyward. Not that James has any better ideas for the moment, but he's been kind of busy being locked up and not being updated with Earth news. Excuses, ok.]

Sounds like a good place to start. Need to get ourselves some warm clothing and perhaps a couple of women to warm us up when we're down there. Failing that, I hope you alright with cuddling, because you and I might be doing a lot of it. [Body heat shared between bros isn't gay.]

[hellosailor]

[Sully grins sharp, talking out of the side of his mouth] You're going to have to work harder than that cowboy. I'm not that cheap of a date.

[He was used to close quarters with big-mouthed men. Thank the Navy for some things. At least in the cold they weren't likely to reek of sweat.]

Anyway, clothes might be an issue. I figure if we can't get anything up here, and god knows I had enough trouble finding even a pair of pants, we should be able to use the transporter. We're bound to find something warm. If they'll allow it. [He bets they will, he doesn't think they want their parolees freezing to death and it's not like anyone was really prepared for it.]

As for the women, I don't think that'll be an issue.