[For Scotty]

[leftwithmybones]

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."

Comments

[hyperspanner.livejournal.com]

Scotty's smile took a turn for the sheepish.

"I've not talked to as many as I really should've," he admitted. It wasn't that he was socially inept, not quite; more that he got so wrapped up in his projects he forgot all about people. "I mean, I've talked to people, but I don't know there's that many here I'd call best friends. Maybe... there's this Russian lass, Natalya Zamyatin, that helped me when I first came here. We've talked a few times. She's an admirable lady."

Well, admirable didn't entirely cover it, but Scotty was doing his best to be sensible and not get any silly ideas in his head.

"There's so many people here, though, I can't keep them all straight in my head right now. Terrible with names, me."

[leftwithmybones]

"I'm continuously surprised you know who I am," McCoy deadpans with as much humor as he can inject into the phrase. "A Russian, huh? I guess Chekov gave you a good round of practice understanding the vowels and the special little accent that comes with that nationality, huh?"

[hyperspanner.livejournal.com]

"Aye, though she's a little clearer than him - doesn't chatter at ye ten to the dozen, and she doesn't mix up her w's and v's," Scotty said. "Anyway, it's not so hard to understand. People have said worse about the way I speak." Stupid people who didn't listen properly, generally, but it was still something that happened, now and then, and he'd accepted it as a fact of life. If only because he wasn't as young as he used to be and wasn't so sure he'd win if it came to blows.

"There's definitely some funny sorts round here. One fella I met just seemed baffled by the idea of anyone wanting to build their own house. And I might have overheard something wrong but I'm almost convinced there's a woman here who's from a Jane Austen novel."

[leftwithmybones]

"You like her, then?" McCoy asks bluntly, arching his brow curiously, seeing as he doesn't see the point of beating around the bush. "Is this one of the friends that Jim Kirk would have? The kind that really enjoys your bed?" he wryly smirks. "...a woman from a Jane Austen novel?" he asks, raising his brow. "What in the hell kind of place is this?"

ooc: damn, sorry for letting this slip

[hyperspanner.livejournal.com]

Scotty flushed, just a little, and hastily took another sip of his drink.

"Oh, ah, she's no' that kind of a friend. I mean, she's a fine lass, but I've not - I -" He paused, swallowed, took a deep breath, and hoped to abandon the subject.

"As for what the hell kind of place this is, best answer I've got is that it's a very strange one indeed," he said, and grinned. "But c'mon, that's what Starfleet's about, right? Exploring new worlds and figuring out how things work? I can't wait to see the report the Captain'll have to write when we get back home."

Re: ooc: damn, sorry for letting this slip

[leftwithmybones]

McCoy just watches without allowing his facial expression to change the once except for the upward and curious arch of a brow. "Is that because she's holding out on you or because you're holding out on trying?" he wonders. "I watched Jim Kirk charm his way through the Academy. I might not be Casanova myself, but I can offer some advice."

"Starfleet is about what was left for me," he grunts evenly. "That's all. The exploration comes second behind the healing of people and aliens."

[hyperspanner.livejournal.com]

"I don't need help," Scotty muttered, arms folded, much in the manner of a sulking child. He certainly didn't need to have McCoy patronise him about it, thank you very much.

"As for Starfleet, I was mostly in it for the machinery, but, y'know, there's plenty of opportunities for us both to do what we do best here, too. We've just got to get used to having different tools to work with." He grinned. "Give me enough time and I could probably fix you up with a decent scanner, as long as ye don't mind it being made outta bamboo."

[leftwithmybones]

"Oh, well," McCoy says, making those two words draw out as he smirks and raises a brow at Scotty. "In the event that you do need help, my door is open. I mean, you helped build it, I'd hope it would be." He takes a long drink from his cup, hardly anything near a 'sip', and tries to think of opportunities. "I've got my tricorder and my datapadd, but I'm lacking cases. I'm not a science officer, goddammit, I'm a doctor."

[hyperspanner.livejournal.com]

"Oh, that again," Scotty said, rolling his eyes. "I keep telling ye, be glad for the holiday. I'm sure any day now we'll have a nice outbreak of dysentery or scarlet fever for ye to get your teeth into."

To be honest, he did sympathise with McCoy a little - he missed the Enterprise so much it hurt, and although he had plenty of engineering projects to keep him busy, it really wasn't the same at all. And McCoy didn't even have a substitute. Unless...

"Maybe ye could take up cosmetic surgery. Or dentistry. I bet there's a demand for that, even if everyone's horribly healthy otherwise."

[leftwithmybones]

"I've checked the records, Scotty, we're not getting anything like that," McCoy says and wishes that he didn't sound so disappointed by a populace's good health. It just leaves him useless because there's already more than enough doctors. "And I don't exactly have the skills for cosmetic surgery. People look right the way they were born, damn it."

The one thing he could do, the one place his skills might be helpful are twofold: he doubts there's much of a vaccination program and he also thinks the psychiatry department is a little short-staffed. It's been ages since he worked in either department, but they used to call him a boy-genius back before his father's condition crushed down doors for his future. He could still remember, he supposes.