Hamish Macbeth doesn't have a custom title currently.
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age in ##: 32
story: Hamish Macbeth
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Plot Page: http://ourheroesandvillains.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=68
Joined: 1-May 17
Last Seen: Yesterday at 09:10 am
Local Time: Feb 22 2018, 02:44 PM
61 posts (0.2 per day)
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Feb 1 2018, 04:43 PM
This was not what he was supposed to be doing.
Hamish rolled himself towards the station, maneuvering this wheelchair around people with relative ease. Since he’d been in the chair a little while now, he had a pretty good handle of being able to move it around effectively. Not something he found himself particularly happy about, of course. Being so good at it only showed that he had been in it far too long! He wanted to be able to walk more than a few feet without pain and fatigue getting the better of him. They said it would take a while for his legs to get back to normal, and boy they weren’t kidding! He was starting to get in a mood about it. He knew it, too. He was crabby and Priscilla was forced to deal with him while he was in such a state, feeling all kinds of sorry for himself.
In an endeavor to give Priscilla a bit of a vacation from his horrible mood, and to be a nosy bugger, Hamish decided to spend some time off on his own around town. It had taken some pleading, but he had managed to work out a little time to himself where Priscilla wouldn’t have to worry about him and she could relax or do something that she wanted to do off on her own.
Really, though, Hamish wasn’t interested in getting air or lightening his mood, he wanted to know what was happening at the station. For how relaxed and laid back he liked to be, he still loved being a cop and not being able to do his job was really getting to him. He just... Wanted to see how things were going. If they were holding together or not.
He really had to know.
So he rolled up to the less than handy-capable station, getting a bit of help from the locals to get himself inside the building. Thankfully, people we friendly and more than willing to help him inside since the city hadn’t thought to install a wheelchair ramp there.
Once inside, he rolled himself down the hall, heading to the little set of offices and the main holding cell that comprised the small station. He was hoping to catch at least one of the other cops there, but he also wasn’t holding his breath.Judy Hopps
Feb 1 2018, 04:31 PM
Hamish was pretty sure he had the worst luck. Literally, there was no one in town who had worse luck than him! All he had wanted to do was have a peek around the mines to see if there was anyone lurking around. Like a crazed murderer who had tried to murder him a couple of times in the past. It had probably not been his best idea, all things considered.
He, after all, was still recovering from a gunshot wound that had left him in a wheelchair for the foreseeable future, though thankfully not permanently, and he wasn’t even on active duty with the police force at the moment. He hadn’t told anyone he would be out by the mines, and now his phone wasn’t getting any kind of service inside the cave.
He really was an idiot, wasn’t he? Of course he had fallen into trouble- of COURSE he had. Not only had the not been able to find the criminal, or any signs he had ever been in the mines to begin with, but his wheelchair wheel had gotten stuck between some of the rocks on the less-than-even cavern floor. Though he tried to pull himself free, he couldn’t manage it. Thankfully, he wasn’t that far from the opening of the cave, but it may well have been twenty miles away with how unable he was to get to the exit. He couldn’t walk all that way with the pain in his stomach and the damage to his spine. He hadn’t regained enough of his mobility yet.
Maybe he should have been less enthusiastic to get back to work when he was still crippled.
After tugging on the wheel a couple more times, Hamish again failed to manage to dislodge himself from the rocks. “Iss there anyone out there?!” He called, his highlander accent more sibilant with his agitation.
He had to hope someone might HAPPEN to be walking along near the mines to hear his pathetic cries for help within. Otherwise, well, it was going to be a long, painful walk home for one Hamish Macbeth. Angel On Fire
Jan 20 2018, 01:03 PM
Hamish was restless.
He had been recovering from his injury, but things had been going a lot more slowly than he would have liked. They had told him, of course, that he had been lucky to be able to walk at all after his gunshot wound and he probably should have been happy that he was able to get back on his feet at all. That it would take months and months of work before he could properly walk again. He knew all that, and at the time he had accepted it with smiles and understanding. But time had a way of really making it clear just how long things were going to last, and how horrible they were going to be the longer the time went on.
He just wanted to get back to work at the police station- he missed his job, even if it was more work than what he had been used to in Lochdubh. Was it so wrong? There was still a killer on the loose, and he had wanted to kill police on top of the other victims he had slaughtered! It wasn’t safe. He didn’t even know if the other coppers were looking into anything! They hardly seemed to know what they were doing.
No, he needed to check on things. Wheelchair or not, recovering or not, he needed to.
So he had wheeled himself out of his temporary home to go and check on things at the station. Maybe he could put together a case file of everything he had put together so far so someone, anyone, could work on the case while he was recovering. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to get out of the apartment. One of the two, certainly. He rolled along the street, the people walking by doing their best to walk around him, since they knew it was difficult for a wheelchair to maneuver. At least the people in town were friendly. Many had already met him, and greeted him much like they had in his old hometown. It was nice. Too bad that whole ‘murderer still on the loose’ thing kind of ruined it. He couldn’t help looking at each person, wondering if they were the murderer.
Any smiling face could end up being that of a killer’s.
As he neared the police station, he let out a tired sigh, stopping for a moment. Even though he was just sitting the whole time, he still found himself exhausted quite easily. With the fatigue and stress eating at him, he found himself with a craving he had not had in a long time- he longed for a cigarette. It had been years since he had quit, and yet. Maybe some old habits died hard.
Getting back to work, he rolled himself up to the station, though immediately realized a mild problem- there were steps and no wheelchair access. What kind of town was this?!Bones
Jan 20 2018, 01:03 PM
Priscilla must have noticed her Hamish had been in a particularly bad mood lately. He moped around the apartment and hardly smiled. Pain and a slow recovery process had taken a lot out of his spirit, and the thoughts that he might never get back to normal had slowly found their way into his brain. He wondered if he would ever be able to walk more than a couple steps without the pain proving too much for him. There was so little progress in physical therapy. They told him he was doing well and making great process, but it didn’t FEEL like it. What was the point if the results weren’t even that good?
Were they preparing him for how limited his mobility was actually going to be? Trying to make him feel good about all the tiny things he managed to accomplish? Or was he actually making slow and steady progress,which would eventually lead to normalcy again?
It felt more like the former with every passing day.
The copper hadn’t even worked on his own case for a while, dealing with his moods and the recovery process more than the murderer who was still on the loose. He knew he probably needed to fix his priorities, and felt a sense of guilt every now and again, but it wasn’t enough to rid him of his funk. He couldn’t pull himself out of the hole, not on his own.
He was thankful he had Priscilla there with him, and that she hadn’t yet gotten tired of his crabby antics. She seemed willing to stick with him no matter how moody or down-trodden he allowed himself to be.
Not that he was really TRYING to be grumpy all the time. It was very unusual for him, in fact. Normally he only got in prolonged moods whenever he was stationed away from Lochdubh for a long time, in a town he wasn’t particularly fond of. He liked Storybrooke. He knew he couldn’t go home, and he considered this town a second home instead. He hadn’t been moody until the injury.
The man sighed, sitting in his wheelchair in the living room. Priscilla had some kind of plan for the day, but Hamish wasn’t sure what it was. He supposed she was going to try and cheer him up, but good luck with THAT.
He was starting to think he would never be happy again! Alright, maybe the depression wasn’t that profound, but he was certainly still crabby as he waited for her. Sedation
Jan 20 2018, 01:02 PM
Well, maybe things weren’t SO bad.
It was true his recovery was slower than he wanted it to be, and he couldn’t do all the things he used to be able to do, but he was alive and it was Christmas, a holiday he got to share with someone he loved very much. Sure, his family wasn’t there with them, but they were always off on some holiday without him anyway. Maybe this time he was the one on holiday: he certainly felt like he had arrived some place special. Though that could have been because he was there with Priscilla, and they had admitted their feelings for one another at long last.
That made any place he could have ended up a hell of a lot better, and he was in a good enough mood thanks to Christmas to actually realize that.
Though Christmas hadn’t been very well loved in Lochdubh, with their old religious types shunning those who enjoyed it openly, it had been celebrated behind closed doors with all the warmth and love it deserved. And Hamish had always been one to enjoy the holiday- it was a special time of year, where family and friends came together. Being in Storybrooke hadn’t changed that kind of feeling, and seeing them string up lights and throw all kinds of parties only made him like the place that much more.
Maybe it wasn’t Lochdubh, but it was starting to feel like home.
He had agreed to go to the charity ball with Priscilla, mostly because she had looked so eager to go, but he wasn’t sure if he would be much fun at it. While his mood had improved for the holidays, his legs really hadn’t, and he wasn’t very good at staying on them for more than a few minutes at a time. Would he be able to manage a dance or two? He had certainly prepared- he was loaded up on pills, had extra with him, and he was willing to suffer through any pain in order to have at least one dance with his Priscilla.
If Christmas miracles were real, then he would manage it.
But he had lost sight of Priscilla once they had arrived at the party. He’d gotten distracted speaking to some of the locals, and he could only assume she had gone off to do the same with some of her friends, as well. He wasn’t too worried though. Even with all the masks and similar outfits around them, there was only one guy in a wheelchair.
She would be able to find him again without much problem, he imagined. Sedation