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xp_logsNot at all surprisingly, Namor has opinions about the disappearance of the Starjammer's crew. He does not get to express them in words, exactly.
Jean had seen far too many movies to know that empty vessels never a good sign. She had a sickening feeling in her stomach as she made her way back up toward the top deck, the metal stairs creaking and groaning with every step.
"I see signs of a struggle. There are a number of things that could've happened. Other pirates, perhaps..."
Namor’s eyes were not on the ship. It is true an abandoned ship was never a good portent, but what these land dwelling interlopers failed to understand was that that one must look beneath the waves. This could be blamed on their assumption that only humans could threaten humans. Or, more likely, just a horrible consequence of ignorance. There were many signs that were being ignored — indentations in the ship’s hulls, residue left on deck, items of value left out in the open — that disproved this theory of other greedy humans, and instead hinted toward something from, what would be now, long ago.
The king grunted dismissively as he continued to scan the vessel as the chatter buzzed around him. Modern metal and ship building practices made the identifying marks hard to find, but as the seconds past he became surer and surer of where the true threat laid.
Then something moved under the water. It was subtle, and slow.
Time hung for a second until he realized that the same inane chatter still continued behind him. Straightening, the once-king raised a hand to silence the huddled “rescuers.”
“You all are horribly wrong. Stop talking.”
Jean arched a brow. "Okay. Then you talk. Enlighten us," she said. He was so charming.
He really was. Or, at least he thought so.
"I was encouraged to spend a year on the sea to better understand the common Atlantean." He coughed, then, which was odd because Namor never got sick. "There, I was instructed in how to spot the most dangerous predator our fisherman could face..."
The last bit of that was caught in another fit of hacking.
Namor's coughing was not lost on Jean, as she took a step closer.
"Namor? Are you okay?"
At his name, the man looked back up at her. His face wasn't the normal, regal picture it had been just a second ago -- in fact, there was a certain amount of green to it -- and his eyes were wide and panicked. He sputtered, "Horn of Prot... the water," but most of it was lost in an onset of sudden sickness. Sickness he was now sharing all over Jean's shoes. Her protests, however, would have to wait, as Namor fell into a seizure on the deck floor.
Well, it had all gone quickly to hell. But Jean wasn't terribly surprised.
Luckily, she'd been around enough people in life threatening situations to not entirely freeze up. So when Namor hit the deck, convulsing uncontrollably, Jean grabbed the med kit she'd brought with her at all times and promptly turned him on his side. Or at least, she tried to. The man was so strong he nearly back handed her when she went to try to clear the vomit that was now bubbling from his mouth and she had to clamp his body down telekinetically. Jean clenched her jaw shut as the color slowly drained from Namor's face, being replaced with blue as he gasped for air. She yanked out a resuscitation bag.
"Okay. We need to get back to the shore now," Jean said, unquestioningly, her eyes hard.
"If I can't get his airway clear I'm going to have to intubate, and it's looking very likely."
Muttering muted profanities under his breath, Clint paused for a moment to evaluate the situation and their surroundings. On the one hand, a medical professional was telling him she'd need to stick a tube down his friend's throat, which seemed like something he should offer assistance with... and on the other, there was something approaching the ship fairly rapidly. He couldn't quite tell what, yet, given the bit of distortion caused by the water and his lack of color differentiation, but. "Okay, doc. You do the tube thing, I'ma shoot... at whatever that thing is. Can you TK him back to our boat? There's something in the water."
It was definitely moving too fast to not be propelled by something... maybe. Clint flipped his bow into his hands and nocked a standard arrow. Then he released it, just to see what impact it might have on the possible-submarine-but-also-maybe-a-sea-monster.
Jean shook her head. "I can try, but I need to get him stabilized," she said, finally managing to clear some of the vomit from his airway. It didn't help her diagnose what the hell was going on any easier though.
The unblocked passage seemed to bring a moment of lucidity -- Namor's eyes briefly centered on Jean, wide and focused. His words, however, were strained and garbled, but the tone in them conveyed urgency more than anything else: "Gabrin karok li mik bet Adlantis."
When Namor spoke, Jean blinked with confusion, only one of the words seeming remotely familiar. "I don't--"
But before Jean could get a response Namor's eyes rolled back into his head and he stopped breathing.
"Damn it!" Jean said, opening his mouth and sliding the intubation tube down his throat. She was about to attach the resuscitation bag when tentacles the size of tree trunks broke the surface of the water and lunged for the ship.
"Less with the cursing," Clint half-yelled. "More with the moving. Christ -- move, move, move!" He was full-on shouting by that point, shooting arrows rapid-fire as he tried to get between his injured friend, Doc Grey, and the ridiculous, flying arms that had just exploded outward from beneath the water to latch onto the ship. Predictably, the limbs themselves made it difficult for even Clint to dodge his way through them. "TK him outta here, doc! He's got six minutes without oxygen before his brain's potentially damaged -- use them to retreat."
"Thank you, Dr. Barton. I completely forgot I had a medical degree! I know, I'm working on it!" Jean snapped as she began squeezing the resuscitation bag to force oxygen into Namor's lungs. It was hard to move him when he was literally dying in front of them.
Slinging the medkit bag over her shoulder, she had just began telekinetically lifting Namor off the ground when the tentacles lashed out at the two of them and she was forced to drive it back with a telekinetic blast, rising to her feet. The bag started squeezing on its own and unconscious man hovered slightly off the ground as she whipped a cargo crate at the giant squid, feeling like they'd just stepped into a Pirates of the Caribbean movie.
She threw up a telekinetic shield, trying to made her way with Namor over to the opposite side of the deck, away from the action.
"Then act like it and get outta here," Clint yelled back at her, still trying to make a dint in the arms thrashing around the boat. "And dunk him in the water ASAP," he continued. He wasn't even sure the six minute thing applied to Namor, since he was ancient, and not necessarily human. He remembered the man healing up a bit in Alaska when he got wet, though, so it made sense, sort of. "Just trust me!" Only the squid limbs didn't seems to be suffering much damage from his regular arrows, so he switched to his tricks, tacking on a couple explosive arrowheads to see how the thing'd like them apples.
Jean was too busy to continue to argue with Clint, about how this medical information would've been handy to know years ago. She let out a sigh.
"Fine. We'll talk about this later!" she said. She had started to round the corner of the ship toward the other side of the deck with Namor when the cargo crate she'd just thrown at the squid somehow came sailing back her direction, landing in front of her.
Startled, she stumbled backward, distracted from the two sets of tentacles headed her way. She let out a scream as they swept out and wrapped around her and Namor, yanking them overboard and below the depths.
"Goddammit," Clint growled. Namor could breathe underwater -- that might even help him heal from whatever was wrong with him -- but Jean was an air-breather through and through. "GUYS," he bellowed, trying to get everyone else's attention over to the spot where the giant squid monster had yanked Jean and Namor overboard. He was still shooting explosive arrowheads at the damn thing when it seemed to lose interest in the boat entirely, its arms sinking rapidly back into the water. Desperately, Clint switched over to a tracer arrowhead as fast as he could, just barely managing to reach the ship's railing in time to fire it toward the creature's bulbous head.
The arrow landed, but Clint couldn't tell how securely it was seated, given the squid disappeared a moment later. It was the best he could do, though, especially since the damn thing seemed to've gotten what it wanted. Peering over the side of the ship, he muttered, "Oh, this is not good. We didn't even touch any weird symbols or... this is so not good."
Jean-Phillipe had enough warning to dive away from the railing as an enormous tentacle came up and around to crash against the deck of Christopher Summers' boat. There was an alarming creaking noise as the limbs of the gigantic sea creature pulled, keeping the vessel in place. "Merde, I have officially entered the world of one of those terrible science fiction movies starring actors who are well past their prime," he observed in a rather acid tone.
"You think you've got it bad? I'm the one who has to tell my father that his ship, which I think he might love more than he loves me and Alex, was used by a giant tentacle monster as a prop in that movie." Scott wished he could be surprised by this turn of events but...no no that wasn't even the weirdest thing that he'd seen on the water before. The X-man rubbed his temple before lowering his head, his eyes starting to glow crimson, "Think a plate...or you know tanker, of sushi might appease him?"
Jean-Phillipe grabbed a spot on the metal railing, his own eyes starting to crackle as he prepared to unleash his power. "Now? Non. Whatever drew it here, now it has something that it wants." And the only way to drive off a predator once it had something in its grip was to make that thing unpalatable.
Kyle had hit the deck, literally, as soon as he had seen the water churn. The smell of the world's worst raw calamari was overwhelming and he struggled to not gag even as he had shouted the warning. "Less talking more zapping the giant fucking squid please!" He said, through heaves.
"Well, you heard the man," Scott's words were greeted by a ruby coloured blast of energy, that speared out, bouncing off the deck of the ship to drive into the tentacle, leaving a small abrasion on the wooden deck as Scott backed to what he thought was a safe distance. He watched as the squid's flesh buckled but didn't give under the pressure of his strike as he nodded at Jean-Phillipe, "Looks like it might take something a little more direct to break that grip."
"Oui, mon capitaine," Jean-Phillipe replied. The railing brightened, an actinic white-blue, and the distinct smell of ozone cut the air, followed by the loud crack that accompanied a large electrical discharge. The squid did not make any noise, but the pained thrashing of the tentacles that had been in contact with the railing caused several more creaks and groans on the ship.
"What is wrong with you people?" Kyle complained, though he wasn't sure if either Scott or Jean-Phillipe could hear him over the water, the giant cephalalod, and the alarming noises from the ship. And it was rhetorical, he knew what was wrong with them, the same thing that was wrong with him, because he was digging both hands, claws out, into a tentacle that was pulling the deck railing loose.
"If you were to ask my cousin, many many things." Jean-Phillipe's voice was bone dry as he continued to pour electricity into the enormous squid. "What is the line from that play you are so enamored of? 'Here is an itemized list of thirty years of disagreements'?" It even had the benefit of being accurate, seeing as he had just passed his thirtieth birthday, and they had practically been arguing and fighting in some fashion since he had first graced the world with his presence...
Just then, he spotted a tentacle pulling two figures, one with a shock of red hair, the other with close cut dark hair. "Calisse." Oh hell, what was the word again? "Overboard. OVERBOARD!" he shouted at Scott, lifting one hand to point.
It was an instinctive reaction, one drilled by years of training, by an absolute trust that Jean-Phillipe wouldn't just call out to him as the X-men leader span around, eyes already glowing as he snapped off a shot at the tentacle, the force beam sailing away from his eyebeams slashing across the tentacle. Sadly the rubbery flesh seemed to take the blow, absorbing it with barely a pause as it continued pulled at its captives. The chance to look through again, to examine those captives showed that Jean and Namor were the unfortunate's grasped up in the monster's struggles, but even as Scott charged up another blast he could see them being dragged closer and closer to the edge of the water.
As fast as Kyle could move, it was not fast enough to get near the squid monster before it released the side of the boat. It was clear to Kyle that Jean was fighting the thing, but Namor was limp in the monster's arm, and before he could scramble to the side of the ship, it pulled them both under, thrashing with the effort of fighting telekinesis and oozing from burns and arrow wounds. He grabbed at the railing to keep from being tossed over, and shouted helplessly into the air.
Jean-Phillipe abruptly tore himself away from the railing so as not to electrocute Kyle, cursing violently in French. Two people abducted and probably drowning... "Damn the Syfy Channel to whatever pit that thing crawled out of," he announced, looking at Scott for direction. He felt about as adrift as the boat currently was.
The X-man rested his hands on the edge of the rail, the metal creaking as he tried to close his hands in a fist around it. "What did my dad walk into?" Dark eyes swept up to glance at the others, self-loathing imprinted clearly on both of those brown orbs as the rail creaked alarmingly. "Damn it...Just...Damn it. Okay, Jean can bubble herself and Namor can breathe underwater. We've got some time, lets see what we have that can go down after them."
"Yeah, because Clint knows a guy with a submarine, right?" Kyle picked himself up, only to sway alarmingly as the boat tilted. He wrapped one arm around the railing and clung tightly. "This is bad right? This is like, titanic bad?" The Starjammer was making noises Kyle was certain were not good ship noises.
"I am not letting go of a perfectly seaworthy door to float forlornly into the depths for you, Kyle," Jean-Phillipe said sarcastically. Scott? Maybe.
I don't think anything is Titanic bad," Scott assured Kyle, "It's probably just I hope you know how to swim and don't mind having a bath bad...although you know, I'm pretty sure no-one will be happy if this ship sinks. Someone find some rope and we'll see just how buoyant Clint's friend's ship is."
"I swim like a goddamn fish, Cyclops." Kyle replied. "Point me at some rope, and you two can boyscout the boats together."
Jean had seen far too many movies to know that empty vessels never a good sign. She had a sickening feeling in her stomach as she made her way back up toward the top deck, the metal stairs creaking and groaning with every step.
"I see signs of a struggle. There are a number of things that could've happened. Other pirates, perhaps..."
Namor’s eyes were not on the ship. It is true an abandoned ship was never a good portent, but what these land dwelling interlopers failed to understand was that that one must look beneath the waves. This could be blamed on their assumption that only humans could threaten humans. Or, more likely, just a horrible consequence of ignorance. There were many signs that were being ignored — indentations in the ship’s hulls, residue left on deck, items of value left out in the open — that disproved this theory of other greedy humans, and instead hinted toward something from, what would be now, long ago.
The king grunted dismissively as he continued to scan the vessel as the chatter buzzed around him. Modern metal and ship building practices made the identifying marks hard to find, but as the seconds past he became surer and surer of where the true threat laid.
Then something moved under the water. It was subtle, and slow.
Time hung for a second until he realized that the same inane chatter still continued behind him. Straightening, the once-king raised a hand to silence the huddled “rescuers.”
“You all are horribly wrong. Stop talking.”
Jean arched a brow. "Okay. Then you talk. Enlighten us," she said. He was so charming.
He really was. Or, at least he thought so.
"I was encouraged to spend a year on the sea to better understand the common Atlantean." He coughed, then, which was odd because Namor never got sick. "There, I was instructed in how to spot the most dangerous predator our fisherman could face..."
The last bit of that was caught in another fit of hacking.
Namor's coughing was not lost on Jean, as she took a step closer.
"Namor? Are you okay?"
At his name, the man looked back up at her. His face wasn't the normal, regal picture it had been just a second ago -- in fact, there was a certain amount of green to it -- and his eyes were wide and panicked. He sputtered, "Horn of Prot... the water," but most of it was lost in an onset of sudden sickness. Sickness he was now sharing all over Jean's shoes. Her protests, however, would have to wait, as Namor fell into a seizure on the deck floor.
Well, it had all gone quickly to hell. But Jean wasn't terribly surprised.
Luckily, she'd been around enough people in life threatening situations to not entirely freeze up. So when Namor hit the deck, convulsing uncontrollably, Jean grabbed the med kit she'd brought with her at all times and promptly turned him on his side. Or at least, she tried to. The man was so strong he nearly back handed her when she went to try to clear the vomit that was now bubbling from his mouth and she had to clamp his body down telekinetically. Jean clenched her jaw shut as the color slowly drained from Namor's face, being replaced with blue as he gasped for air. She yanked out a resuscitation bag.
"Okay. We need to get back to the shore now," Jean said, unquestioningly, her eyes hard.
"If I can't get his airway clear I'm going to have to intubate, and it's looking very likely."
Muttering muted profanities under his breath, Clint paused for a moment to evaluate the situation and their surroundings. On the one hand, a medical professional was telling him she'd need to stick a tube down his friend's throat, which seemed like something he should offer assistance with... and on the other, there was something approaching the ship fairly rapidly. He couldn't quite tell what, yet, given the bit of distortion caused by the water and his lack of color differentiation, but. "Okay, doc. You do the tube thing, I'ma shoot... at whatever that thing is. Can you TK him back to our boat? There's something in the water."
It was definitely moving too fast to not be propelled by something... maybe. Clint flipped his bow into his hands and nocked a standard arrow. Then he released it, just to see what impact it might have on the possible-submarine-but-also-maybe-a-sea-monster.
Jean shook her head. "I can try, but I need to get him stabilized," she said, finally managing to clear some of the vomit from his airway. It didn't help her diagnose what the hell was going on any easier though.
The unblocked passage seemed to bring a moment of lucidity -- Namor's eyes briefly centered on Jean, wide and focused. His words, however, were strained and garbled, but the tone in them conveyed urgency more than anything else: "Gabrin karok li mik bet Adlantis."
When Namor spoke, Jean blinked with confusion, only one of the words seeming remotely familiar. "I don't--"
But before Jean could get a response Namor's eyes rolled back into his head and he stopped breathing.
"Damn it!" Jean said, opening his mouth and sliding the intubation tube down his throat. She was about to attach the resuscitation bag when tentacles the size of tree trunks broke the surface of the water and lunged for the ship.
"Less with the cursing," Clint half-yelled. "More with the moving. Christ -- move, move, move!" He was full-on shouting by that point, shooting arrows rapid-fire as he tried to get between his injured friend, Doc Grey, and the ridiculous, flying arms that had just exploded outward from beneath the water to latch onto the ship. Predictably, the limbs themselves made it difficult for even Clint to dodge his way through them. "TK him outta here, doc! He's got six minutes without oxygen before his brain's potentially damaged -- use them to retreat."
"Thank you, Dr. Barton. I completely forgot I had a medical degree! I know, I'm working on it!" Jean snapped as she began squeezing the resuscitation bag to force oxygen into Namor's lungs. It was hard to move him when he was literally dying in front of them.
Slinging the medkit bag over her shoulder, she had just began telekinetically lifting Namor off the ground when the tentacles lashed out at the two of them and she was forced to drive it back with a telekinetic blast, rising to her feet. The bag started squeezing on its own and unconscious man hovered slightly off the ground as she whipped a cargo crate at the giant squid, feeling like they'd just stepped into a Pirates of the Caribbean movie.
She threw up a telekinetic shield, trying to made her way with Namor over to the opposite side of the deck, away from the action.
"Then act like it and get outta here," Clint yelled back at her, still trying to make a dint in the arms thrashing around the boat. "And dunk him in the water ASAP," he continued. He wasn't even sure the six minute thing applied to Namor, since he was ancient, and not necessarily human. He remembered the man healing up a bit in Alaska when he got wet, though, so it made sense, sort of. "Just trust me!" Only the squid limbs didn't seems to be suffering much damage from his regular arrows, so he switched to his tricks, tacking on a couple explosive arrowheads to see how the thing'd like them apples.
Jean was too busy to continue to argue with Clint, about how this medical information would've been handy to know years ago. She let out a sigh.
"Fine. We'll talk about this later!" she said. She had started to round the corner of the ship toward the other side of the deck with Namor when the cargo crate she'd just thrown at the squid somehow came sailing back her direction, landing in front of her.
Startled, she stumbled backward, distracted from the two sets of tentacles headed her way. She let out a scream as they swept out and wrapped around her and Namor, yanking them overboard and below the depths.
"Goddammit," Clint growled. Namor could breathe underwater -- that might even help him heal from whatever was wrong with him -- but Jean was an air-breather through and through. "GUYS," he bellowed, trying to get everyone else's attention over to the spot where the giant squid monster had yanked Jean and Namor overboard. He was still shooting explosive arrowheads at the damn thing when it seemed to lose interest in the boat entirely, its arms sinking rapidly back into the water. Desperately, Clint switched over to a tracer arrowhead as fast as he could, just barely managing to reach the ship's railing in time to fire it toward the creature's bulbous head.
The arrow landed, but Clint couldn't tell how securely it was seated, given the squid disappeared a moment later. It was the best he could do, though, especially since the damn thing seemed to've gotten what it wanted. Peering over the side of the ship, he muttered, "Oh, this is not good. We didn't even touch any weird symbols or... this is so not good."
Jean-Phillipe had enough warning to dive away from the railing as an enormous tentacle came up and around to crash against the deck of Christopher Summers' boat. There was an alarming creaking noise as the limbs of the gigantic sea creature pulled, keeping the vessel in place. "Merde, I have officially entered the world of one of those terrible science fiction movies starring actors who are well past their prime," he observed in a rather acid tone.
"You think you've got it bad? I'm the one who has to tell my father that his ship, which I think he might love more than he loves me and Alex, was used by a giant tentacle monster as a prop in that movie." Scott wished he could be surprised by this turn of events but...no no that wasn't even the weirdest thing that he'd seen on the water before. The X-man rubbed his temple before lowering his head, his eyes starting to glow crimson, "Think a plate...or you know tanker, of sushi might appease him?"
Jean-Phillipe grabbed a spot on the metal railing, his own eyes starting to crackle as he prepared to unleash his power. "Now? Non. Whatever drew it here, now it has something that it wants." And the only way to drive off a predator once it had something in its grip was to make that thing unpalatable.
Kyle had hit the deck, literally, as soon as he had seen the water churn. The smell of the world's worst raw calamari was overwhelming and he struggled to not gag even as he had shouted the warning. "Less talking more zapping the giant fucking squid please!" He said, through heaves.
"Well, you heard the man," Scott's words were greeted by a ruby coloured blast of energy, that speared out, bouncing off the deck of the ship to drive into the tentacle, leaving a small abrasion on the wooden deck as Scott backed to what he thought was a safe distance. He watched as the squid's flesh buckled but didn't give under the pressure of his strike as he nodded at Jean-Phillipe, "Looks like it might take something a little more direct to break that grip."
"Oui, mon capitaine," Jean-Phillipe replied. The railing brightened, an actinic white-blue, and the distinct smell of ozone cut the air, followed by the loud crack that accompanied a large electrical discharge. The squid did not make any noise, but the pained thrashing of the tentacles that had been in contact with the railing caused several more creaks and groans on the ship.
"What is wrong with you people?" Kyle complained, though he wasn't sure if either Scott or Jean-Phillipe could hear him over the water, the giant cephalalod, and the alarming noises from the ship. And it was rhetorical, he knew what was wrong with them, the same thing that was wrong with him, because he was digging both hands, claws out, into a tentacle that was pulling the deck railing loose.
"If you were to ask my cousin, many many things." Jean-Phillipe's voice was bone dry as he continued to pour electricity into the enormous squid. "What is the line from that play you are so enamored of? 'Here is an itemized list of thirty years of disagreements'?" It even had the benefit of being accurate, seeing as he had just passed his thirtieth birthday, and they had practically been arguing and fighting in some fashion since he had first graced the world with his presence...
Just then, he spotted a tentacle pulling two figures, one with a shock of red hair, the other with close cut dark hair. "Calisse." Oh hell, what was the word again? "Overboard. OVERBOARD!" he shouted at Scott, lifting one hand to point.
It was an instinctive reaction, one drilled by years of training, by an absolute trust that Jean-Phillipe wouldn't just call out to him as the X-men leader span around, eyes already glowing as he snapped off a shot at the tentacle, the force beam sailing away from his eyebeams slashing across the tentacle. Sadly the rubbery flesh seemed to take the blow, absorbing it with barely a pause as it continued pulled at its captives. The chance to look through again, to examine those captives showed that Jean and Namor were the unfortunate's grasped up in the monster's struggles, but even as Scott charged up another blast he could see them being dragged closer and closer to the edge of the water.
As fast as Kyle could move, it was not fast enough to get near the squid monster before it released the side of the boat. It was clear to Kyle that Jean was fighting the thing, but Namor was limp in the monster's arm, and before he could scramble to the side of the ship, it pulled them both under, thrashing with the effort of fighting telekinesis and oozing from burns and arrow wounds. He grabbed at the railing to keep from being tossed over, and shouted helplessly into the air.
Jean-Phillipe abruptly tore himself away from the railing so as not to electrocute Kyle, cursing violently in French. Two people abducted and probably drowning... "Damn the Syfy Channel to whatever pit that thing crawled out of," he announced, looking at Scott for direction. He felt about as adrift as the boat currently was.
The X-man rested his hands on the edge of the rail, the metal creaking as he tried to close his hands in a fist around it. "What did my dad walk into?" Dark eyes swept up to glance at the others, self-loathing imprinted clearly on both of those brown orbs as the rail creaked alarmingly. "Damn it...Just...Damn it. Okay, Jean can bubble herself and Namor can breathe underwater. We've got some time, lets see what we have that can go down after them."
"Yeah, because Clint knows a guy with a submarine, right?" Kyle picked himself up, only to sway alarmingly as the boat tilted. He wrapped one arm around the railing and clung tightly. "This is bad right? This is like, titanic bad?" The Starjammer was making noises Kyle was certain were not good ship noises.
"I am not letting go of a perfectly seaworthy door to float forlornly into the depths for you, Kyle," Jean-Phillipe said sarcastically. Scott? Maybe.
I don't think anything is Titanic bad," Scott assured Kyle, "It's probably just I hope you know how to swim and don't mind having a bath bad...although you know, I'm pretty sure no-one will be happy if this ship sinks. Someone find some rope and we'll see just how buoyant Clint's friend's ship is."
"I swim like a goddamn fish, Cyclops." Kyle replied. "Point me at some rope, and you two can boyscout the boats together."
