.63 [voice]

[hyposprayed]

[filtered as best it can be from bad parties but everyone and their grandmother could probably hack it.]

[have some extremely crackling, static-filled feed before a slightly hoarse, vaguely irate tone speaks. Anything '---'d' is just too much static to hear.]

Well I'll be damned, finally w---, -ook long enough.

Any news fro- -he outside?

[ooc;

Comments

[major_scarlet]

...doctor?

[voice forever]

[hyposprayed]

[dramatic pause! if this were a movie it'd probably be one of those terrible reunion scenes.]

Scarlet- well I'll really be damned. Are you-- [mm static]

[voice]

[major_scarlet]

[/HOPEFUL MUSIC! /SLOW MOTION!]

Doctor, where are you? Did you hear-- did you hear about the executions? How much longer do you have?

[voice]

[hyposprayed]

[T-THIS MUSIC. IT'S SO SOULFUL AND TENSION BUILDING D: ]

[STATIC STATIC, maybe some garbled words and smacking sound before it comes in clear(ish)] Damnit Scarlet, get off the network! If they figure out you're ta--- [more fun static before he cuts back in, a little less irate.]

Hell, I don't know. Soon, damned soon. Don't -- -nything stupid, you hear me?

SPAM!

[buywithme]

Comrade?

[Prefect doesn't notice that he's using the wrong term of address as he crouches outside the Doctor's cell, trying to attract the mans attention.]

I have a question for you?

[The muscles in his face clench into a grin that's too wide to be anything but slightly painful.]

SPAM!

[hyposprayed]

[Shhhhiiiit. McCoy practically throws the communicator in his pocket. Very smoothly. This is just how he rolls.

And of course by smoothly I mean like an epileptic in the throes of a seizure.]

Prefect. [It is actually impossible for him to sound any less thrilled to see him.] Don't you damn well always. I told your goons before I don't know who's involved or what they're up to. There's a reason they call it 'beating a dead horse.'

SPAM!

[buywithme]

[Prefect doesn't trouble himself about McCoy's flailing, if he was in a cell he'd probably have an occasional flail as well.]

It's not about that, Doctor.

[Still grinning like a maniac, he leans forward to rest his head between two of the bars of the cell. Sliding his forearms through the bars, he wraps them across a portion of the cell door and clutches on to it. It's the kind of gesture you might expect from someone locked in the cell and longing for freedom, rather than the man holding the keys.]

How do you know if you've got strychnine poisoning?

SPAM!

[hyposprayed]

[So understanding Prefect. McCoy turns and stands, too tense and generally pissed to sit in his presence. That or he's looking for a plate to throw.]

Strychnine- [And it's into doctor mode.] Muscle spasms with frequent convulsions leading to paralysis of the neural pathways that control breathing- damnit man, you have two hours at most to save them if that's the case. [He walks towards the bars, like he could see anything out there anyway.]