leftwithmybones: (that's OKAY?: by ?)
McCoy isn't sure what to make of the Island in general, but he knows now more than ever that he generally hates it. Little surly gods of love running around with messages? Yeah, not exactly his idea of paradise. He's made it to the morning of the fifteenth, though, and has wandered out to the main room, knocking on Spock's door. "Spock?" he calls out. "Spock, I'm going to get breakfast, I'll bring you back some tea."

With no audible response (or one too quiet for him to dignify), he sets off on a path that'll take him by Scotty's place. If nothing else, maybe he can have some decent company while he gets something to eat and celebrates the fact that he survived a chintzy holiday created for no better reason than to sell chocolates and cards. He arrives and waits outside, not bothering to even knock. "Scotty!" he calls, voice decently loud. "It's morning, c'mon, let's go eat!"
leftwithmybones: (beautiful eyes: by ?)
McCoy's lived his life with the belief that all people are innately stupid and will disappoint you in the end. It's why he hasn't exactly held much hope in having his hut completed, but he'll be damned because it's all there. Extra rooms, climate control, and that beautiful still that actually promises that his little vacation away from Starfleet might be a good time after all. He's even run a first go through the still and has tampered it down from everclear to something that wouldn't have his ancestors proud at their boy for creating.

He's offering a glass to Scotty while marvelling at the good work done, shaking his head. "Don't take offense," he starts bluntly, "but I wasn't expecting you to be able to do the carpentry, let alone the rest."


leftwithmybones: (Default)
Dr. Leonard McCoy

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