kirktastic | [We Interrupt Your Usual RP to Bring You... International Talk Like a Pirate Day!]

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you are a pirate!

[We Interrupt Your Usual RP to Bring You... International Talk Like a Pirate Day!]

It was morning on the Enterprise, and it came with the slow creaking of wood deck around him, swelling in the heat of the morning, the sound of waves against the sides of the ship. Definitely a damn good way to wake up.

Even better was waking up between two warm bodies, one pressed to either side of him. On one side was his cabin boy, a young buck with a foolish head but a pleasing face and tongue. On the other, his first mate, a smug, stoic, uptight, ridiculously intelligent bastard who he had finally talked into ...sharing his bed. At least in the physical sense. He'd won the argument that the captain's bed was the most comfortable place on the ship, but anything beyond that was met with a pointed look and a reach for the sword hilt.

It was a damn good life here on the Enterprise.

He was Captain James T. Kirk of the pirate ship Enterprise, the most feared name on the open seas. He ran his crew with a mixture of charm, command, and the point of his sword. He was a good swordsman, a better brawler, and decent with a flint lock.

[OOC: This will be the ONLY pirate thread everyone, no multiple posts on multiple journals! Post just in here for this! Today only!]

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She had been Lady Christine, once, and it was hard, at times, to shake off old habits, old expectations. Sometimes she wished she could go back to that life; that life of leisure and comfort, servants to cater to her whims, nothing expected of her but that she act as a proper lady should. She was accomplished in French and the pianoforte; she was beautiful and charming and social graces came easily to her. Life would be so easy, she thought, so easy if she could just go back...

But it was impossible. That life was over. Lord Korby was dead, and while no one could honestly say that he hadn't deserved it, there were still consequences for a woman whose husband was found lifeless on the kitchen flagstones, a knife plunged into his throat at just the right spot to kill him instantly.

She'd studied anatomy, too.

Lady Christine had veiled her face and booked passage from the Federated States to the Isla del Risa, using her late husband's money. Once there she had abandoned both Korby's name and her own; she dared not risk being found.

And so Lady Christine became simply Buttercup; a foolish name, perhaps, but one that she held dear; a close family friend had bestowed the nickname upon her in her youth, after her yellow hair. She had not seen Nero since he had enlisted in the Queen's Navy, and did not expect to do so again.

For now, all she hoped for was to find a position on a ship sailing out of Isla del Risa: a ship whose crew did not ask too many questions, whose captain did not attempt to pry too deeply into the pasts of those under his command.

Leonard McCoy was not a pirate, thank you very much. Just because he had lived on a ship sailing under that title meant nothing - he'd been shanghaied (so he told people). The eyepatch was medical, dammit, and as for the pillaging and general blackguard-ry and so on, well...when in Rome.

Except that he wasn't anymore. He was grounded until he could find a new position somewhere, his old ship having had a minor run-in with some other less-than-friendly types who had unfortunately had bigger cannons than them. He'd escaped with his life, but lost his eye in the process, and the less he was reminded about that, the better for everyone.

Anyway, the result of the string of bad luck was that he had now spent the last two months bar-crawling on Isla del Risa, trying to delay the fact that sooner or later he'd have to join another crew or risk getting himself caught. He hadn't exactly led a blameless life, after all - he was just more subtle about it than others.

It was on one of these nightly crawls that he spotted someone who rather...stood out. Mainly because her hair actually looked clean, something that many of the girls here couldn't exactly boast about, but also because there was just something about her that looked out-of-place. She seemed to fit in, but she didn't quite...belong. It was confusing. He watched her from his solitary corner, scowling away to himself in his usual bad-tempered manner, and wondered just what the Hell she was doing here in the first place.

She entered the bar, subtly glancing around the room as she did so. The room was dark and the floor dirty, but it was packed full tonight. With luck, she'd find someone here looking to hire new crewmembers. The phrase surgeon's mate had a nice ring to it, but she wasn't above deck-swabbing, if it came to that.

She moved quietly across the room, doing her best not to draw attention to herself, but she had been raised a lady, after all, and her proud bearing, combined with her clothing - more worn now than it had been when she'd left the Federated States, but still clearly of fine quality - turned more than one curious head as she passed.

She took a seat at the bar, glancing around for a likely target.

McCoy raised his tankard, taking a long draught from it and narrowing his eyes (or eye), brows drawing together. She wasn't your everyday wench - there was nobility in her. He was a doctor, he knew these things...and he clearly wasn't the only one who had noticed, if the stares were anything to go by.

He watched as she seated herself at the bar and began looking around furtively, as though searching for someone. In a place like this, people only ever really came looking for three things - drink, sex or a ship. And in his opinion, she didn't look the type for the first two.

An idea began to form in his mind - this could work in his favour. But he stayed where he was for now, keeping a close eye, just to make sure that she wasn't hanging around in search of anything else. She might not have looked it, but you never knew sometimes.

Christine - Buttercup, she reminded herself - finished her survey of the room. Truth be told, she really didn't have the first idea how one identified a pirate captain looking for new crewmembers, but she was fairly certain that the attention she was attracting wasn't the sort she was hoping for.

She had the misfortune of making accidental eye contact with one such man as her eyes swept the room; a large, boorish oaf with a leer on his unpleasant face. She turned her head away from him haughtily, but her pose stiffened and she listened sharply, just in case.

As expected, the man ignored her dismissal; she could hear his heavy footsteps as he sauntered across the floor towards her. He reached out to place one hand on her shoulder, but she was already moving, slipping off the barstool and into a defensive posture, one hand reaching for the knife in her boot. Her eyes flashed defiantly.

McCoy sat forwards at the sudden promise of action, suddenly paying full attention. This could either end very badly or very well, depending on the next move this strange woman made. She certainly looked as though she knew what she was doing - her swift movement into a defensive posture looked as though it wasn't the first time she'd done it.

Once upon a time he would have stepped in on a situation like this, but experience had showed him that was a sure-fire way to get stabbed or shot at. Nevertheless, despite the fact he didn't move from his seat, his hand drifted to the flintlock hanging at his hip, just in case things took a turn for the worse - he hated firing the damned thing, but that didn't mean he wouldn't if really he had to.

The man drew back slightly in surprise, and Buttercup tensed slightly, ready for whatever he did next. She would prefer not to make a scene here, but she'd learned the hard way to do whatever she needed to defend herself.

The man looked her over and grinned crudely. It was obvious that he'd decided that he was more than a match for her - unsurprising, given his apparent physical advantage - and he leaned closer, reaching for her.

"Going somewhere, honey?"

It was over in a flash. Buttercup thrust up the hand holding the knife, slamming the butt of the weapon into the man's solar plexus. He staggered back, gasping for air, and she turned and fled into the crowd.

She found a seat against the far wall, near the corner, sliding roughly into the seat as her eyes darted back and forth. No one seemed to have followed her, and the only person nearby was a slight man with an eyepatch - not much of a threat.

His eyebrow shot up so fast it nearly disappeared into his hairline.

Well, that had been quite the display, hadn't it? His assumption that she knew what she was doing was apparently correct, and McCoy found he was impressed. He liked a girl who could hold her own.

He watched her closely but surreptitiously as she darted over to a spot near him, tilting his head to the side slightly so he could regard her more easily from his working eye. Well. Reckon now it was probably safe to assume they were here looking for the same thing. He tapped the side of his tankard thoughtfully before lifting it and draining the contents, thudding it down loudly enough to attract her attention but not anyone else's.

"Y'know, most people wait a while before gettin' 'emselves into a brawl." He cast a glance over to the still-reeling man she'd incapacitated, eyebrow pointedly arched.

Her head whipped around sharply at the sound; she was still jumpy from the adrenaline rush. She relaxed when she saw the man with the eyepatch, still sitting nonthreateningly at the table next to hers.

"Well, I'm not most people," she replied, studying him more closely. "That a problem for you - sailor?" The last word was a question all in itself. Maybe this man could help her find what she was looking for.

"Surgeon." Who so happened to work at sea - just didn't like being called 'sailor'. He raised his hands defensively. "An' it ain't no problem at all." He gave his natural drawl free reign, finding that it helped seperate his voice from the rest of the rabble around. Shifted his chair so he was facing her, he leant forwards slightly, fixing her with a discerning gaze.

"Just leads me to wonder what a lady o' your standin' might be doin' on a rock like this in the first place."

"A ship's surgeon?" It was time for direct questions, she decided. "Where's your captain, then?"

She raised an eyebrow, gazing at him levelly. "I was under the impression that people came to rocks like this in order to avoid those kinds of questions." She passed over the implication concerning her social standing, neither confirming nor denying it.

McCoy smirked at her quick, sharp answer. "Smart girl, huh." No pulling anything over on her. He caught the barman's eye, calling up another refill before answering her previous question, gaze flicking to the tabletop briefly.

"Dead. Missing. Not sure. Didn't hang around to find out." He thought about saying something else but decided against it, looking back up at her instead and effecting a swift change of subject. "What's your interest in it, anyway?"

She accepted his answer with a wordless nod; she would keep her secrets, and allow him to keep his own in turn.

The direct approach had worked well enough before. She took a breath and caught his eye. "Looking for a crew to join." She considered him appraisingly, and added, "A captain looking to hire a surgeon may be more inclined to take him on if doing so means he doesn't have to go searching for a surgeon's mate as well."

"Well now, I can't fault that logic." He sat back, still with that same smirk. "You done work like that before, huh?" To be honest, it didn't really matter if she had or not - she was willing to learn, she'd just pick it up on the job. Pretty much how he'd done it.

What had begun as a repeat of every single night for the past two months was rapidly developing into something far more productive - sometimes Fortune really did just like to step at the right moment.

She hesitated minutely before answering, looking down at the scratched wooden tabletop. She feared that he would dismiss her proposal immediately if she admitted she had no real experience as a surgeon's mate, but neither could she afford to be dishonest. If she claimed to possess skills she did not have, she would be found out sooner rather than later, and things would go badly.

"No," she confessed reluctantly. "I haven't." She looked back up at him, meeting his steely blue eye. "But I learn quickly, and I know my anatomy." He'd seen the evidence of that himself, and knowledge of where to direct a blow or a knife thrust could be transferred easily enough to the business of healing.

[[OOC: THE MISSING EYE JOKES WILL NOT STOP COMING. I APOLOGIZE.]]

"Then you'll do just fine." Indeed he had seen evidence of it, and he was no fool - she knew more about anatomy than he had done when he'd started this insane venture of his all those years ago. And to be honest, he preferred that she'd told him now, rather than letting him find out himself when a difficult situation arose - now he knew that she'd need guidance. "You have a name?"

[[OOC - LOL THEY'RE HILARIOUS, IT'S OK XD]]

She opened her mouth to reply, her tongue rising to form the L for Lady, and her breath caught in her throat for a moment before she overcame habit and forced the word from her lips.

"Buttercup." She gazed at him steadily, daring him to challenge her. "And yourself?"

His eyebrow hitched slightly but he said nothing - after all, he took an assumed name himself. Doing the things he did, working under one's real name was just asking for trouble.

"Bones." Bestowed on him (with great delight) by his old captain. He could have changed it, he supposed, but...it'd grown on him. He offered a hand to shake hers, because she was a lady and, blackguard or not, he still had his manners.

She accepted the name - more than obviously an alias - with some relief. So she wasn't the only one holding things back. That was fine - it meant that this man, at least, was more likely to respect her own privacy.

Yet when she held her hand out in return, it was with her palm facing downward and her wrist limp, ready to receive a kiss on the back of the hand, just as she had been trained. The gesture gave away much more about her background than she would have preferred, but it was far too late to withdraw or try to cover up the lapse in her careful disguise.

He gave a lopsided grin at the positioning of her hand. Just as he'd suspected. He wondered briefly why she would choose to run away from a life like that, but it was none of his business and so he didn't ask - instead he just went along with the accidental gesture, taking her hand and brushing his lips lightly against the back of it. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear."

She offered a somewhat brittle smile as he took her hand and lowered his head to kiss it softly. Thankfully, he said nothing, but it was obvious that the significance of the gesture was not lost on him. He was clearly intelligent, seeing right through her efforts to disguise herself, perceiving everything she was trying to hide. Yet he was discreet as well, respecting the mask she wore and making no attempt to tear it away, though he could do so easily.

She felt a sudden rush of gratitude for his discretion.

"And yours as well," she replied, inclining her head slightly as she withdrew her hand.

[[OOC: This is fun. TOS!McCoy and Chapel really need to interact more in regular RP canon.]]

'Each to their own' was his mantra - if she didn't ask, then neither would he. He sat back in his chair, regarding her appraisingly for a few moments before glancing over to the bar.

"Get you anything?" He gestured to his own drink, which he had nearly emptied already. He wasn't yet feeling the effects, but it usually took a few more than he'd had before that happened - he was going light today.

[[OOC - They totally should, they're an awesome duo.]]

She hesitated for a moment, unsure how to answer. She wanted to keep her wits about her, but she also couldn't afford to do anything else to stand out - either to Bones, or, more importantly, to the bartender or anyone else who might notice her abstaining from drink.

She nodded in acceptance, leaving the decision of what to order up to him, and resolving to only sip at the alcohol.

Nodding, he caught the bartender's attention and called over a tankard of the same concoction he'd been drinking, as well as a refill for himself. It wasn't particularly strong, but it tasted decent enough and was enough to do the trick, so it would probably suit her. He slid it across the table towards her.

"Should do you for now." He picked up his own and took a draught, knocking it back easily. "So tell me - you lookin' for anythin' in particular in this crew you're after, or just whoever'll take you?" He personally wasn't fussy - he'd served with some pretty rough characters before - so he'd leave the decision up to her.

She accepted the glass with a smile of thanks and took a small sip. It tasted awful to her, but then, she'd hardly expected fine wine, someplace like this.

She thought a moment before answering his question. "I don't have a long list of requirements. Mainly, I just need a fresh start. Somewhere to start a new life, without worrying too much about the old one." She met his eye, allowing a bit of humor to creep into her smile. "A reasonably steady income would be nice too, of course."

[We Interrupt Your Usual RP to Bring You... International Talk Like a Pirate Day!]

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