Nate's the first to wake after the op - Hardison's idea, of course, and Hardison's design although the rest of them have been around long enough to have a 'well, why not' attitude to most things. It's blessed silence...at first.
And then it's not, and Nate realises there'll never be complete silence in his head ever again.
Eliot surfaces next, shaking the drugs off groggily and Nate can hear the slurred, suspicious thoughts in his mind.
Where...recognise this place...whatwhowhen...team...
It comes through almost like static at first, and then clearer and clearer like Nate's hearing Eliot's voice in his ear instead of it being sent straight to his brain. The tech over in the corner behind his computer display gives Nate a thumbs up and a grin.
Parker next, and there's this frenetic almost-buzzing that comes with her thoughts. She's all over the place and Nate really, really wants a drink. If this is how Parker thinks all the time...
Compared to Parker, the constant low-grade hum of Eliot's thoughts is almost soothing - although their retrieval specialist has already figured out fifteen ways of getting out of the lab complex, complete with headings and sub-headings and annotated with footnotes in his mind (and therefore Nate's and Parker's) of the casualties he'd have to inflict and the differing amounts of destruction of parts of the complex and the lists of 'acceptable' personal injuries that would be sustained by Eliot in order to extract the rest of the team safely.
"Shut. Up," Nate growls out and Eliot looks at him with big, puzzled eyes.
Eliot has no idea what he's doing, which is possibly the scariest part - that he's cataloging all these escape plans and all the ensuing chaos and he doesn't even realise it.
Hardison's brain is like a computer. There's all these background checks but there's also random thoughts about the twentieth variation of Star Trek and how hot the thirteenth Doctor is (although not a patch on the Tenth) floating through. Hardison's thirsty as well, apparently.
Sophie's the last to wake - she comes round and Nate's treated to a blast of identities as Sophie tries to figure out just who she currently is (IsabelKatherineHarrietJaneSophie).
"Everyone...just. Stop thinking," Nate orders.
But they can't, of course, because that would mean having to stop thinking completely. Nate rubs at his temples and glares at the lab tech in the corner.
"There might be a few adjustments that need to be made," Hardison says. He's already hanging over the tech's shoulder, poking at the visual display.
"There's something wrong with you," Eliot says in a low growl to Parker - who's poking at his head like she can figure him out (and if she hasn't in the two hundred years they've been a team, she won't any time soon.)
There's thoughts in Nate's head of the precise thickness and length of the rope needed to jump from the roof of the Geyhard building in New New York down to the sixty-first floor. There's a detailed exploration of the circuit board of the inter-cranial comm overlaid with a need for orange soda and Eliot's brain is still running through escape options - he's up to forty-five, now, and they're getting bloodier. In one of them, Eliot's including himself losing an arm as an 'acceptable risk' and the time they would have to spend getting med-stuff for the wound. (There's also this underlay of how much more useful it would be to have a cybernetic arm instead that Nate would rather not know any more about, thank you.) Sophie's wincing as she's hit with everyone else's thoughts and she's still piecing together her personality, Nate's mind turning up and rejecting various traits and likes and dislikes as Sophie puts Sophie Devereaux back together.
Nate sits there and whimpers a little and ignores Eliot and Sophie's glares as he silently wishes, again, for a nice shot of bourbon.
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Inter-cranial comms, Leverage, team
Date: 2010-06-04 10:23 am (UTC)And then it's not, and Nate realises there'll never be complete silence in his head ever again.
Eliot surfaces next, shaking the drugs off groggily and Nate can hear the slurred, suspicious thoughts in his mind.
Where...recognise this place...whatwhowhen...team...
It comes through almost like static at first, and then clearer and clearer like Nate's hearing Eliot's voice in his ear instead of it being sent straight to his brain. The tech over in the corner behind his computer display gives Nate a thumbs up and a grin.
Parker next, and there's this frenetic almost-buzzing that comes with her thoughts. She's all over the place and Nate really, really wants a drink. If this is how Parker thinks all the time...
Compared to Parker, the constant low-grade hum of Eliot's thoughts is almost soothing - although their retrieval specialist has already figured out fifteen ways of getting out of the lab complex, complete with headings and sub-headings and annotated with footnotes in his mind (and therefore Nate's and Parker's) of the casualties he'd have to inflict and the differing amounts of destruction of parts of the complex and the lists of 'acceptable' personal injuries that would be sustained by Eliot in order to extract the rest of the team safely.
"Shut. Up," Nate growls out and Eliot looks at him with big, puzzled eyes.
Eliot has no idea what he's doing, which is possibly the scariest part - that he's cataloging all these escape plans and all the ensuing chaos and he doesn't even realise it.
Hardison's brain is like a computer. There's all these background checks but there's also random thoughts about the twentieth variation of Star Trek and how hot the thirteenth Doctor is (although not a patch on the Tenth) floating through. Hardison's thirsty as well, apparently.
Sophie's the last to wake - she comes round and Nate's treated to a blast of identities as Sophie tries to figure out just who she currently is (IsabelKatherineHarrietJaneSophie).
"Everyone...just. Stop thinking," Nate orders.
But they can't, of course, because that would mean having to stop thinking completely. Nate rubs at his temples and glares at the lab tech in the corner.
"There might be a few adjustments that need to be made," Hardison says. He's already hanging over the tech's shoulder, poking at the visual display.
"There's something wrong with you," Eliot says in a low growl to Parker - who's poking at his head like she can figure him out (and if she hasn't in the two hundred years they've been a team, she won't any time soon.)
There's thoughts in Nate's head of the precise thickness and length of the rope needed to jump from the roof of the Geyhard building in New New York down to the sixty-first floor. There's a detailed exploration of the circuit board of the inter-cranial comm overlaid with a need for orange soda and Eliot's brain is still running through escape options - he's up to forty-five, now, and they're getting bloodier. In one of them, Eliot's including himself losing an arm as an 'acceptable risk' and the time they would have to spend getting med-stuff for the wound. (There's also this underlay of how much more useful it would be to have a cybernetic arm instead that Nate would rather not know any more about, thank you.) Sophie's wincing as she's hit with everyone else's thoughts and she's still piecing together her personality, Nate's mind turning up and rejecting various traits and likes and dislikes as Sophie puts Sophie Devereaux back together.
Nate sits there and whimpers a little and ignores Eliot and Sophie's glares as he silently wishes, again, for a nice shot of bourbon.