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They've both been busy ever since the Barge touched down and the Admiral issued the lists. Alec, who needs something to keep him busy always anyway, is all too happy to help fetch things back to the ship as fast as he can find them, but he doesn't stick to just the lists - and he keeps track of whoever he can from the ship, as well. Lark in particular, although that's easy enough when they automatically keep tabs on one another regardless.

For instance, he knows they're both in Etin during the timeframe he's opted to go out by himself rather than accompanying Norton or Jacobi; he works best by himself and he has no question about his ability to collect supplies more efficiently without another Barge passenger to mind while he does. He even knows he could get out of this particular corner if it came right down to it, but what the past few years have taught him is he doesn't always have to take that risk.

So he uses his communicator to reach out to Lark when he's exhausted his easy options: "Any chance you're not busy right this second?"

"Not right this second." He's just finished meeting with Sweeney, just finished his list and he's planning to take on another after he's allowed himself to check supply routes. Which is why he assumes Alec is calling with a task in mind. "What do you need?"

Well. He kind of is.

"Well." Well. "I've got a good score for us on what I think are comparable to peas, except I kind of can't get to them."

He pauses in his counting. "You can't get to something? Where is it?"

He sounds annoyed, if anything.

"On the other side of this glass?"

"Are you trying to steal them?" Who keeps food behind glass besides a shopkeeper? "Never mind, give me your coordinates."

"Well, I was."

Alec sighs, muttering something in Mandarin before he clicks on the video feed so Lark can see that he's standing well out in full view on a counter, under what appears to be a very large, very heavy upturned drinking glass.

He has a lot of dust in his hair and all over his jacket, but he looks unharmed. Just annoyed as he gives Lark his coordinates as near as he can guess.

"How did 'robbing giants' become part of our vows?" Lark muses, already clearly on his way by the sound of him moving. "How did you end up, ah, stuck?"

"Oh this one is entirely your fault," he grouses in the way that always means he's not actually angry.

"Have you seen what passes for housecats here? They're pretty distracting. That's how."

He scoffs. "That is not my fault. I've never asked you to chase down any kind of cat. How did it catch you?"

"It didn't. Whatever owns it did." He tips the camera down so Lark can see that he's also standing on a piece of paper.

"I'm quick, but I'm not that quick. And I'm not strong enough to move this any closer to the edge of the table on my own."

"I'm not enjoying being pocket sized," he grouses, but it's funny to see Alec in a glass. "I'm turning the corner now."

He turns the feed off and creeps his way inside, climbs up onto the counter.

Alec pockets his communicator, too, and goes back to pacing the perimeter of the glass, crouching down to pick at the fiber of the paper and try to find a flaw to start a rip in it. He could with enough time, he thinks.

He's every bit as unamused about this as Lark is amused: "Don't," he warns, leveling a finger at his husband, muted by how thick the glass is. "Or neither of us is sleeping for a week, I swear."

"You already don't sleep, and I'm not going to get any rest until we're done here," so it's not much of a threat. He stops, touches the glass with both hands. "Can I get a picture before we spring you?"

"Sure," Alec replies brightly, sweetly, even batting his eyes a bit.

"And the second we get back, I swear I'll throw away every bar of soap I own except the one you're allergic to, but go ahead."

He snaps a picture. "I threw that one away before we disembarked. To make room for the new supplies."

He puts his device in his back pocket. "All right. Let's push that way."

The look Alec shoots Lark for the photo is the kind that would make others very, very happy that there's glass between them and him.

"I'll get more," he promises, even as he moves opposite Lark to add his muscle to the other man's.

"If you're nice I'll delete it," he smirks. "Okay, one, two, go."

Things he never thought he'd be doing. If he thinks too hard about it he'll start laughing, and then Alec really will punish him.

"If you're an ass, I'll steal your communicator and delete everything," he throws back, hurling himself at the glass.

It's huge, is the problem, and both of them are strong but it only moves a spare fraction at a time.

"Dammit-" He straightens up when they've worked at this and moved it maybe a tiny bit. "Maybe we should just try to dig you out." The countertop might be softer than the thick glass. It has nothing to do with Lark's instincts running toward 'dig dig dig' when he's frustrated.

Alec has been throwing himself bodily against the glass long enough and hard enough that he's panting now and rubbing his shoulder absently while he thinks.

"Maybe. I have my knife." And he's flexible and slender, he wouldn't need as much clearance as most. "Or - can you jump high enough in this gravity to hit the top fourth? Could we tip it?"

"I wouldn't have enough power at the top of the jump," he shakes his head. "Besides, the sound might bring the giant back and maybe this time he'd just smash us with a newspaper."

He says it like a joke because the possibility is very real and he can't think about it right this second. Not until it's a reality.

He takes his jacket off, then his shirt. "I'll dig you out."

Alec groans, deep from within his gut, because -

"You are never going to shut up about this are you." But he's pulling the long knife he's taken to carrying on missions to the farms in particular, long and wicked sharp and good for carving up big vegetables into manageable hunks.

He picks a spot that's already splintered a bit, then crouches down to start stabbing and twisting inelegantly at the wood.

"Especially if we get swatted with a newspaper."

"The next time you complain about me getting fur on the bed," shedding the last of his clothes. "This is going to come up."

He changes forms then, and sets about digging. His tail might be wagging. A lot.

Alec mutters in eight different languages as he works from his side, falling quickly into a rhythm that doesn't endanger Lark's paws with his knife. He doesn't know how much time they have either.

He hates having to be rescued but if it's anyone, at least it's Lark. He can shut his husband up if he gets too obnoxious.

This is what he's thinking when they get deep enough that he signals for Lark to stop, and reaches his arm under to see if he thinks he can fit.

"You're lucky I'm tiny and cute," he grouses, flipping over on his back to start trying to shimmy through.

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ukan - 2021-11-30 04:52 (UTC) - Expand

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