leftwithmybones | [For Chase]

Entry tags:

chase

[For Chase]

McCoy's not sure what to do about the fact that he's still on an Island, so instead of doing something about it, he retires to the jazz club and decides to drink, instead. It's not the most productive plans, it's not the best, but it gives him something to do. It gets him away from the Nameless Cat and Spock and it lets him drift into some version of the past where he had no worries, could be carefree, and a normal man not bowed down in grief for six billion souls, an ex-wife who kept his daughter from him, and his father's life weighing on his conscience.

He's starting to think maybe Jim and Chekov have the right idea. Find someone and let everything be poured into that desperate act of sex or companionship or whatever passes for it these days. He knocks back the rest of his drink and orders another as he turns to look at the woman that he's been watching since she came in. She's young, but not young and undeniably beautiful. He might be tipsy, but he knows that he's not dead inside if he can still acknowledge someone so stunning.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Chase didn't actually have a drink in front of her; she was here for the music and the company, though the latter had been sorely lacking so far.

The man watching her had not gone unnoticed, though it was some time before she realized he didn't seem to have any intention of approaching her. Finally, in a fit of boredom and curiosity, she got up and moved to the seat next to him.

"Hello," she said politely, crossing her legs towards him. "I was beginning to wonder if I had something in my teeth." Then her lips twitched into a smile and she added, "I'm Chase."

McCoy gives a sheepish laugh, smiling down at his knee before glancing up at her. "No, you've just got a coward of a man looking at you, too frightened to say hello," he admits, the twang of his accent still there in his voice. "I'm Leonard," he introduces himself, extending a hand to be shaken. "And I know this'll seem extremely forward, but you're very beautiful, Chase."

"You're in luck, because I am quite a big fan of forward," Chase said, shaking his hand. "And thank you, that's very sweet." She liked his accent; it was endearing in a foreign sort of way, as she had grown up in Connecticut. "Where are you from, Leonard?"

"Originally from Georgia," he replies proudly, because you can take the boy out of the country, but you really can't take the pride out no matter what. "By way of San Francisco, and now here in a dingy little jazz club on a strange little Island. You?"

"Originally from Connecticut," Chase said. "Most recently... Gotham City, and before that, D.C." She tilted her head a little. "Tell me, how long have you been on our strange little island?" It had not been long for her, relatively speaking, either, but something told her he was even newer than her.

"Four months," McCoy admits and that's too damn long for him. He hates the notion that he's starting to think of this as a very special little 'tour', but at least it isn't in space. "Can I buy you a drink? Maybe get to know you, talk a little. I'd love to hear about what you do."

"Sure, thank you," Chase said, and then laughed. "Ah, whatever you're having. I find the selection somewhat hit or miss anyway. And I think you're probably making something of an assumption, that I do anything, considering that it's a common state of affairs around here to just... not."

"Gin and tonic, it is," McCoy agrees smoothly as he puts in an order for two more and turns on his chair to face her, body language reading very much that he's very interested in what she has to say. "So you one of those beach bums then?" he asks, slightly sharp in his direct questioning.

A smile twitched at Chase's lips. "No," she admitted. "You assumed right. I am, I suppose, as gainfully employed as one can be here. I'm a psychologist."

McCoy grins at that and shakes his head. "I'll be damned," he notes, still smiling easily. It's much easier to do when he actually is enjoying the conversation. "So am I. Not that I'm eager to share that with a lot of people because I'd rather cure their ills and not listen to their problems, but I specialized in the effects of space on the mind during a stint in psychology."

"Space!" Chase laughed, though she sounded more delighted than mocking or incredulous. "Well, then. And I thought my specialty was interesting. Multiple personalities, psychosis... I was often brought in by the police to consult on the most, ah, colorful of criminals. Though here..." She spread her hands. "I'm just happy to have someone on my couch."

"I hadn't been there for very long," McCoy assures. "I mean, I did some stints out in space to write my papers, but it was always a journey. Once I got to the destination, I kissed the ground so to speak." He relaxes slightly and arches a brow at her last comment, unable to really just let that go. "I hope you at least are slightly discriminatory in just who gets to be on that couch of yours," he teases.

Chase laughed, and as their drinks arrived, took a sip before answering. "Why, were you hoping to get a spot? I'm pretty sure I could fit a space doctor into my collection."

"Maybe I am," McCoy replies easily and feels rusty for playing this game of flirting after so long away, but he can brush off the skills and not feel too stuck. At least there's that. He smiles easily and shrugs, like it's nothing at all. "Maybe I'm gunning for something that isn't the couch at all."

Chase lifted an eyebrow at that, though mostly looked amused. "I don't know, it's a pretty damn comfortable couch. Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

"Is that an invitation to the couch?" McCoy asks aloud with a devious grin on his face and feeling slightly encouraged by the alcohol. "I do have knowledge that there's at least a dozen rooms in the main building with vacant beds. Do those count as couches for you to counsel me on?"

"I'm not certain why I would want a vacant bed when I have one of my own," Chase pointed out, and knocked back the rest of the drink. She looked at him and found herself thinking of Bruce.

Which was not a road she wanted to go down.

"Actually, both the bed and the couch are in my hut," she said. "I'm working on setting up my office there. Perhaps you'd like to come give me some tips on furniture arrangement?"

That definitely sounds like a very clear invitation and McCoy isn't going to be an idiot and just ignore it. He casts his head with a polite nod to her because he knows that he has to be polite now or his parents will give him a good talking to all the way from heaven. "I'd like nothing more. You can lead the way. I've had to redecorate a whole house once for my ex-wife, I'm sure I'll remember some tips."

Chase slid off of her school and offered him her arm. "Well I hope she had better taste in getting rid of furniture than getting rid of men," she said lightly.

"It wasn't all her fault," is all McCoy is ready to admit as he takes her arm and gets to his feet. "But I like to think it was. It's easier on the heart and the soul, I feel like. So, your place?"

"Maybe I'm not supposed to say this in my line of work, but I don't think there's anything wrong with a little bit of historical revision if it makes you feel better," Chase said. "I do it sometimes myself. And yes, it's not far from here. You know, I was actually told that one of the women who lived there before me was a space doctor. Small world."

"Well, I like to think of myself as a simple ol' country doctor and not a 'space' doctor," he says with the proper invettas. God help him if ever that's how he starts to think of himself, soaring through galaxies with no foot on earth. "But that is a funny thing, really. She leave anything behind?"

"Nothing of interest in the house," Chase said with a shrug. "There's a nice crop of marijuana nearby, but I'm told that comes from her roommate. Someone is still taking care of it, I think, every once in a while it looks a bit... tidier." She'd never been much of a pot smoker herself; most of it she had gotten out of the way in high school just to annoy her parents.

"Marijuana, that's...antiquated," McCoy notes without approval or disapproval in his tone. After all, he's seen worse and stranger in his time as a doctor and especially when he'd been coming up through the ER. "I think we can do without the drugs tonight though, don't you?"

"I think so, yes," Chase said, thinking just how long it had been since she'd done this. Picking a guy up at a bar and bringing him home just seemed like something so... far away. Not here on the island.

Maybe that's why it seemed like such a good idea; maybe she was homesick.

Or maybe she just wanted to sleep with someone who didn't wear a suit and fight crime.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject