realityshifted | ✘ o9 ;;

[ if there's one person that has something of a habit of making grand entrances to the plane, it's this guy. first, it was hitting the ground running from an angry orange alien, and this time, he'll just be rolling in on a desk chair at a pretty high velocity, probably close to toppling ass over teacup the moment he loses any semblance of his balance, and it will be just one more instance of falling on his ass in this place that he can add to the list.

at least he's in his armor. that oughta soften the blow a little.

and anything is better than floating around in space after having nearly been blown the fuck up just because someone had neglected to tell him that the director had his own course of action should he not be able to take care of a little security bypass. that hadn't been giving him any trouble. at all. thank you, delta.

who is, of course, already bombarding him with questions in the back of his mind, and could somebody get york an aspirin, or something? he feels one hell of a headache coming on.

his chair slowly rolls to a stop, and he slumps over, elbows braced on his knees as he silently takes stock of himself. nothing hurts, his armor is intact, there's an annoying buzzing inside his head that is still finding ways to explain why it hadn't felt the need to let a certain somebody in on the fact that the director had a giant fucking laser pointed at his location for the entire duration of his mission … eh, par for the course. ]

Agent York, are you listening?

Tryin' not to, D … haven't quite worked on tunin' you out yet. Gimme a bit, and I'll have it down pat.

[ oi. ]

( ooc: this would be york's canon bump! which means he now has a certain cockbite of an ai with him, and we pre-emptively apologize for him. in entirety. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Sometimes, having access to the Plane has its advantages. Being able to check in with teammates during a mission is one of them, especially after one of them was on the ship they needed to get on.]

York? Hey York, are you he--?

[And then he spots him. And chair he hasn't seen on the Plane before right nearby.] Ah, he is here. [Giving that chair a confused look, he runs over, a jet pack secured on his pack. He's unaware of eventful trip York's had so far.] York, are you okay?

[ north. north you have no idea how pleased he will be to see you. seriously.

he finally rolls to a stop, and when he hears his friend nearby, he's perking up more than he probably should given the severity of the situation that he's just taken himself away from. ~~fuck being shot out into space, god, director, he hates you so much sometimes.~~ ] North – ? Hey, man. Okay's a pretty speculative term, but I think it works here.

[ and upon seeing the jetpack … ] What's that for?

[...Well, that answers his question.] Yeah...I'm not North. Uh, I think I need to get you to a medic... Your eyes must be going. [Short pause.] And your head.

Actually, take your helmet off. I need to see if you hit your head or something, buddy.

[ wow what the absolute fuck was i thinking in that tag I'M NOT STUPID I SWEAR. ~~fuck i'm so embarrassed.~~

but well excuse for york to be out of his gourd for the moment, sure. not like we ever really needed one before.

he does take his helmet off, though, shakes his head for effect. ] I'm fine ... uh. [ so he might have a concussion. maybe. who the hell knows. ] No medic necessary.

[ don't believe him. really. he's concussed. ]

[♥]

[He just sighs, not buying for a moment.] Sure, buddy. [He stands in front of York and takes hold of York's head with both his hands, looking in his eyes, then checking the rest of his head for any bumps and wounds.] Delta, what's the verdict?

So, uh...what exactly happened?

[ you should never buy anything he's selling. no one should.

but york allows himself to be examined, staying as still as any child would when being made to. ( which is to say, he somehow manages not to fidget, so does that mean he gets a gold star and a sucker when he's finished? )

meanwhile … ] There is no extensive damage, Agent Washington.

[ well. at least he isn't going to be a smartass about it. :| ] I … the Director's a dick, that's what happened.

[ grumble grumble. ]

[Alas, no lollipops in his armor. Doesn't need his side pockets getting all sticky. And the only stickers he'd ever have on him would be cat ones. If he had them. Which he doesn't.]

...But there is damage? Is that what you're saying?

[He gives York a quick look (shame he can't see it beyond his helmet visor.)] That...still doesn't tell me what happened. What did he do? ...I don't remember this kind of chair being around here before.

[ damn it wash. you're no fun at all. ( though cat stickers, good lord boy, you need a different hobby. ) ]

Agent York believes he may have suffered a concussion from being projected into space at high velocity. No matter how much I assure him that is not the case.

[ thaaaank yooou little green judas.

york just sighs and waves a hand. ] I was on a mission. There was a holographic lock. Apparently the good ol' Director thought I was takin' too long.

He had a laser.

He pointed it at me.

He shot it. [ and then he reaches to pat the desk chair as though to reassure himself that it's still there. ] This thing just happened to follow me. Pretty comfy.

[He doesn't point out that they're on the same mission. Well. York's on the forward team of one because he's their locksmith, but he missed the MAC cannon being fired... Though, that may have explained the slight shudder in the Mother of Invention...]

Well...not at you so much as...the lock, I'm sure... [He pats him on the shoulder and starts to put York's helmet back on over his head.] At least you're safe, buddy. Concussion aside, you don't look bad for someone who's been shot into space.

...But you'll still be there when you go back. [That realization hits him a bit belatedly.] Oh great...

I'm still countin' it as a personal shot. [ he's grumpy, okay? just give him time to get over it, and he'll surely forget all about it. maybe. he's never been one to really hold a grudge, but then again, he's never been shot out into space like this before.

we'll just have to see how it goes …

helmet back in place, he lets out a huff of a noise, nodding. ] Yeah, exactly. So I'm not exactly rushin' to go back. [ and here's a shrug. ] If I ever wished time passed back home while we were here … sure would be helpful right about now.

[A brief moment of silence.] At least he missed?

Um...I guess? I'd kinda be in trouble if I disappeared while everything was going on... [Like. A lot of trouble. Especially in a big group mission like this one.] But I see what you mean.

Anyway, will you need any help for when you go back? Will you need a kick so you're still moving through space? [The physics of the Plane in situations like this isn't something he's had to give much thought to since he's been here.]

[ you have a point. a valid point. ] Yeah, at least there's that.

[ are you seriously implying that you would give your friend a kick ~~probably to the ass, let's be real here~~ to make sure he's still got some momentum to carry him back through unending space? wow, what a pal. physics might not be his strong suit – probably far from it, all things considered – but surprisingly enough, that question actually makes a fair bit of sense. ]

I was movin' pretty fast already, honestly. [ hm. hmmm. ] But y'know, it couldn't hurt? Might actually help. Assumin' it doesn't knock me into any space debris.

[ which. you never really know is that's gonna happen until it's already happened. ]

[Not necessarily a kick in the ass directly...but he wouldn't not kick him there if it would be the best spot for take off.]

I don't know... There's a lot of debris out there. Might want to cover your head. [He shuffles from one foot to the other, wondering if South has noticed his sudden absence] Just be careful, okay?

✘ o9 ;;

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