Dressed in only his circuitry suit while the engineers buzz around him and Sherlock trying to get their battle armor into place, John glances over at his reluctant partner and just nods at him. He'll leave the elation to the actual Drift, where he won't be able to hide it anyhow. "Just try not to throw up," he prompts and is somewhat forcefully pushed forward a bit as the spinal clamps are pressed into and connected to the back of the drivesuit. The armor is a little more beat up than he remembers, it could use another gloss of white paint, but it will do. This is just for a test after all.
John accepts his helmet from one of the wayward technicians and nods at her before leading the way into the conn-pod. Relay gel slides between the helmet and the circuitry suit, making his skin chill almost immediately before the tingling subsides and he can reach for the harness. Right side.
Emotional control.
Sherlock will take the left. Logic.
They'll share the rest, move as one-- That is, if Sherlock's mind doesn't immediate reject him. He doesn't watch the other man strap himself in either. He might be tempted to give pointers and he wants to get away from that. They should learn this together. It's less traumatic that way. Maybe. John's probably making that up to combat the way his heart races.
The AI counts them down from twenty and the men and women in the LOCCENT do the same, spouting numbers and figures as their biosigns are read back.
"Three. Two--"
The Drift hits like a punch. It takes his breath away.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-08-08 04:04 pm (UTC)John accepts his helmet from one of the wayward technicians and nods at her before leading the way into the conn-pod. Relay gel slides between the helmet and the circuitry suit, making his skin chill almost immediately before the tingling subsides and he can reach for the harness. Right side.
Emotional control.
Sherlock will take the left. Logic.
They'll share the rest, move as one-- That is, if Sherlock's mind doesn't immediate reject him. He doesn't watch the other man strap himself in either. He might be tempted to give pointers and he wants to get away from that. They should learn this together. It's less traumatic that way. Maybe. John's probably making that up to combat the way his heart races.
The AI counts them down from twenty and the men and women in the LOCCENT do the same, spouting numbers and figures as their biosigns are read back.
"Three. Two--"
The Drift hits like a punch. It takes his breath away.