Search for a Lost Fantasy(semi-literate+)

[Hobo!]

Mitch; Crisis fighter
The mildly enraged girl studied Skye's movements, please with her work to his cheek. At least he'd have some sort of bruise soon to show for her handy work, while all the blows he was giving her seemed to be in the same spot; her side. That wouldn't prove to be a sufficient battle-wound area, something to show off his handy-work. Mitch respected the fact; most guys on the ship that fought, fought for their own pleasure, to show off and brag about how they gave that one guy a black eye, or brok another's arm with his fist. Skye fought for strategy, and although Mitch loathed the boy in these minutes, she respected him.
Skye's skill was immense. Mitch's fist fighting basically dulled in comparison to the co-captain's, whose arm was now around her neck, making her stumble. Mitch's strong points were weapons, especially a sword. She'd never really fought with her hands even though she fully had the strength to do so well; she just never practiced it as much as she could have.
Sara had tried to pry them apart. It was kind of humorous actually, how easily Skye ignored her. So Mitch mimicked him, not ready to give up on the fight just yet. Mitch backed away from Sara's outstretched, prying arms in synch with Skye, which was probably a mistake now that she thought about it.
Well, on that note, back to the fight.
Now that Mitch had been put in an unbalancing head lock, she cursed. Her mind reeled quickly as she thought of what she'd have to do in this situation. An idea popped into her head, ans she used it quickly, maybe costing her the fight. She quickly picked up one of her legs, kicking it in an odd angle, so it his the back of Skye's knee. The pressure point made most fall, since it immediately buckled the knees of the person it happened to.

[Artesian]

QUIANA - Cloud Mechanic

"I'll remember, Mel," Quiana told her, grinning. She wasn't offended by the pat either. Growing up with several older brothers and sisters and dozens of cousins in one enormous family, she'd had plenty of pats on the head, often coupled with 'aren't you getting big', or 'that's so cute'. Ki-ki was hard to offend, and at least Mel hadn't told her she was adorable. That, Ki-ki didn't like.

Mel pulled up a chair nearby the stove, and Ki-ki knelt down to check the cold-storage sector - a simple heat-exchange loop tied into the engines and the chilly outside wind whipping by. Ki-ki had plans, someday, of powering all the little stuff (speaking-tubes, winches, cold storage, that sort of thing) with wind-mills on the ship's buoyant air tanks and that new-fangled, or old-fangled, no one knew how old the idea was, stuff called elektricity. The Captain had, so far, vetoed it on the basis of some rumors about fires and explosions. Not a very adventurous attitude, in Ki-ki's opinion. "Ah, th' tasteless mush stuff. I t'ink th' reason they serve 'at stuff is 'cause they don't want 'ighters sick, so they make sure 'at they don' evah call in sick, ya know?" She rummaged about in the cold box... not anything particularly good, except for the gouda. "Well, it looks like we're out of any sort o' meat. But we've got eggs..."

Ki-ki stood and turned on the faucet above the sink to wash her hands. It spat insanely hot water into the bowl of the sink, steam rising up like a plume to lightly toast Quiana's face. She yelped and turned the hot water down to mix with the cold water. Mel was talking again, but Ki-ki didn't quite catch it, due to her sudden preoccupation with the machinery.

Up here, both hot and cold water were abundant. The steam-driven engines had plenty of the liquid to spare, and every last drop of waste water would be purified and used again in the steam engines. Ki-ki frowned. "That's not suppos'd to 'appen," she muttered, under her breath, washing her hands carefully in the now cool water. She'd have to check the pipes for the kitchen. This might be a symptom of an engine running just a bit hotter than usual; when it ran more than just a bit hotter, the symptom was sudden altitude loss and a flat ship. Probably it was just someone messing with the pipe-relays, as she hadn't noticed anything amiss this morning in her check. Maybe...

She glanced out the window, and was surprised to see clouds scudding past far faster than usual. They'd laid in a new course... they were turning, and speeding up. That would do it, she thought. We're going somewhere in earnest now. Amaya broke into her thoughts. "''Ello Aya!" She chirruped, and flicking the water off her hands and drying them on a clean patch of her shirt. She leaned down and gave the girl a quick hug. Ki-ki sometimes wondered what the girl was doing here, on a pirate ship, but she was a joy to have around. "Jus' makin' a lunch for Mel 'ere. Why don't ya' ask 'er what she's been up to? I'm boooooring."

"So, an omelet, Mel? Wit' th' gouda, and some veggies we got?" she asked, heaving the enormous cheese round over the cutting board. "And I expect I can do a lettle cheese tortiya thin' fo' you, lassie," she added, addressing Amaya, "An' no one will be th' wisah."

QUIANA - is in the kitchens with Mel and Amaya.

[SmileyWily]

Frankie, Crisis Mechanic in Training
Frankie nodded, mostly getting it. He took the wax from Alex and wielded the screwdriver. He knelt down next to the lowest pipe and began loosening the screws and pulling out a section of the pipe. He quickly plugs the pipe with the thick wax. He takes a flashlight from his satchel that lay next to him and casts the beam down the pie. The clog looked like ash and fur and mud. He knew the bottlebrush-like thing would not do for this job.
Frankie's hand crept down the pipe. He closed his gloved fingers around the clog and began pulling it out of the hole. He threw the muck onto the floor and continued with the single pipe. A cough escapes Frankie's throat and a sneeze soon followed. The steam was overwhelming his system.
A pile of crud lay on the floor and there was still more for him to get. He pulled the wax out and put the pipe back in place. Frankie's fingers fumbled with the screws, but soon got the nuts and bolts into their correct spots.
This was going to take forever. His hands began unscrewing the next pipe's screws, but one of his hands was slipping from the grease and water and mud that stuck to his gloves. After minutes of slipping and failing with the screwdriver, he got it unscrewed and plugged.

[Placebo Effect]

- { Cɾïṡïṡ Pïɾατε Alεχαṉḋɾïα Sτøɾṃ } -
“Do it today, it might be illegal tomorrow.”

As Frankie boringly unclogged the machine, and was silent apart from the occasional cough, Alexandria's eyes wandered lazily about the room. She left him to it as she climbed a ladder up into the higher levels of the machinary room. She enjoyed it up here, it was a nice place to spend the time. The fumes from the engines warmed up the area just up above them, and that's where the platform to the portholes was.

Alexandria had a love for sitting, face pressed against the porthole, watching the world pass by beneath her. It felt like flying. Which seemed to be what the person attached to the rope seemed to be doing. She grinned, lying on her stomach against the floor, and hooking her ankle around a pipe. She grunted with effort as she heaved the porthole open further, and made sure not to mess with the rope holding up the flyer bellow.

"TOR!" She yelled, though it was lost to the wind. She frowned, yelling from the bottom of her lungs to shout louder. "TOR! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" She had a huge grin on her face as she dangled out of the porthole. Even though the air outside was freezing cold, Alex figured she'd be fine for a few minutes. She could already feel her cheeks going red from the cold, and her fingers clutching at the edge of the porthole were already begining to redden.

[free.]

(Sorry for the delay. Hope this is alright. If not, I can edit. :) )

Username:

Name:
Faith Steele Mckay
Nickname:
Call her anything besides Mckay and you'll never know what hit you.
Age:
Seventeen
Gender:
Female
Group?:
Crisis

Description:
Mckay has a small stature. She's 5'7, and is all skin and bones, as some would say. Meaning, really, that she just has a very slim build. She's got muscle on her, though, and isn't weak. But her best talent when it comes to life as a Sky-Pirate would be her speed. She's lightning fast. And though not the strongest or biggest, she has speed and agillity on her side. She was built for athletics. She has the body of a dancer, and the gracefullness for it too. Her feet are average, fitting into a womens shoe size of eight. Her legs make up most of her body, with long, skinny calves and thighs. Her knees are kinda knobby looking, and of course, she doesn't exactly shave her legs, living the life she does. But the hair on her legs is blonde, so it doesn't stand out too much. Her skin is fair, only slightly tan, and mostly kind of dry and rough. She has narrow, flexible hips and a flat stomach. Her arms are also long and skinny, and she doesn't really seem to know what to do with them half the time. Her hands are smaall and delicate, with long spindly fingers. Her nails are kept short from constant biting or tearing, and have never seen polish in their life. Mckay has a narrow chest and shoulders. Her face is round and rather innocent looking....that is until you look into her eyes. Sure, she's pretty, with a small nose and full lips, and only slightly crooked teeth. She's got fairly clear skin and her eyebrows are normal. But those eyes....it's like they're looking into your soul and finding your deepest fears, secrets, and regrets. They are a silvery grey, but steely and ice cold, with no emotion. They wipe away her girly, innocent look almost instantly, giving birth to almost a wild looking creature. She has long black lashes that frame her eyes. Her hair is naturally blonde in colour, and just past shoulder length. She doesn't do much with it, just puts it up and gets it out of her face.
So overall, Mckay is an average looking girl. Pretty, but not a stunner. She's delicate looking, and fairly young looking as well. Until you are given one of her infamous death cold stares from those icy eyes of hers.
Height:
5'7
Weight:
102 pounds
Position?(flier, fighter, mechanic, etc):
Fighter

Personality:
Rebel, Rebel. That describes Mckay fairly easily. Along with Daring, Intimidating, Deadly, and Tough. She's not the kind of Gal to be messed with. Witty and a quick thinker, she is good at throwing out orders and commanding raids. But she has trouble when it comes to following others orders. Being a girl on a tough ship mostly filled with men, she feels the need to make up for that. So she is the toughest, most brutal, and dangerous person she can be when it comes to that. She makes sure she trains twice as hard, fights twice as hard, does practically everything the best she possibly can; and then some. She's sarcastic and snarky, with that famous barbed tounge of hers. When they've just had a succesfull raid, and everyone happy and partying, she's sure to join in the fun. She's a wild child. She'll laugh at jokes and stories, maybe even tell her own. But she's all busniuess when it comes to fights and raids. She's fairly even tempered, though at times can have a hot head, and has been known to throw some mighty awful curses around. Just don't get on her bad side, and you should be fine. She hates manipulating and mind games, her speciality is what she refers to as real fighting. Physical fighting, not stupid little harrasment games. She is good at ignoring what others say, which is good when there is taunting from an enemy. And though a great fighter, Mckay does have a heart, and would never hurt or fight someone without a weapon or someone like a child or innocent civillian. She doesn't have bloodlust, she just enjoys having a life she can do whatever she wishes with. She's generally nice and polite, with good manners from her upbringing. She knows when to shutup and when to leave, and has a good judge of character. Mckay is fun loving and adventurous, with a free spirit and a love of danger. She's the person who lives in the moment, and doesn't regret what has made her happy.
History?:
Mckay was born into an upperclass family. That's not to say she had the perfect life. Okay, so yes, she didn't have to worry about meals, she had nice clothes and a nice house. Her parents meant well and loved her. But she felt trapped, and hopeless. She felt like she was screaming bloody murder in a room full of people, and not a single soul could hear her. It was the her towns tradition for your job, house, and husband to be chosen by the parents for their children. At age five, it was decided Mckay would be a professional dancer, and would live next door to her parents. She grew up in a whirlwind of practicing dance, dance, and more dance. Grades didn't matter as long as a C+ average was made. All that mattered was dance. And truthfully, Mckay liked dance. But she didn't want it to be her life. Just like her brother didn't want being a doctor to be his life. But tradition was tradition, and it seemed no matter how hard she fought and screamed to be heard, she was denied what she called her rights. So Mckay pretty much gave up on life, and became the perfect little daughter, doing everything she was told, without questions. But if someone had taken her aside, looked into her eyes, and asked her what was wrong, they would have known. Her face was emotionless, her eyes dead. She had come to the conclusion that her life was over, but nowhere near the end. Until she heard tale of the Sky-Pirates. Having been brought up in a strictly class ruling family, she had never been among riffraff and had never been told the tales of the Sky-Pirates. Her town was well protected. But escaping to a tavern on the outskirts of town one night, she was told the story of the Sky-Pirates, and hope once more returned. She already had her mind set on joining them before she even got home later in the evening. She urged her brother to come with her, but he was a proud kind of a person, and bluntly refused, telling his sister matter of factly that he would not be a theif or a hooligan. It made Mckay mad, but she got over it. She left early the next morning, leaving everything except some practical clothes and some food behind. She left her doting parents a kind note, explaining how though she loved them dearly, she could not take being a uppet anymore, and that she was deciding her own fate. And with that farewell, Mckay has never seen her family since. And that was three years ago. She had made it out of town and down to poorer towns, where she had caught word of the Sky-Pirates coming. She managed to catch up to them while they were raiding somewhere, and stowaway on their ship. She emerged only once they were in the air, and joined in with them, only raising a few eyebrows in the process. But no one asked where she came from, and she didn't offer.
Skills:
Running, dancing, climbing, swordplay/fighting.
Crush?(Fill out later if not applicable):
None Yet


Username:
anonymous.

Name:
Nathaniel David Myers
Nickname:
Nathan or Nate, but mainly Nathan.
Age:
Nineteen
Gender:
Male
Group?(Cloud or Crisis, info above):
Cloud
Description:
Nathan is tall, standing at exactly 6'1. He has a long, lanky body with narrow, bony, and pointed features and a boyish look about him. His skin is pale and usually cold, for reasons unexplained. Probably due to low blood sugar, or something. He has long, thin legs, muscles not really carved into them, only with faint outlines. His hips are narrow and bony. He has a flat stomach, where the lines of a six pack are clearly outlined. He has a lean torso, with a muscular back. His arms are long and skinny. He has narrow, bony shoulders and his collarbone juts out quite visibly from his body. If you were to lift up his shirt you'd see his ribs quite plainly, like he's starving or something. Which though he's not now, have to do with starvation. He has a strange long scar that runs the length of his spine, which also is quite visible on his back. Another scars runs from the right side of his collarbone to the middle of his chest. He has a narrow face with well define cheekbones. His lips are thin and pink, and generally cracked and dry looking. He has a small, pointed nose, and pretty blue eyes fringed with black lashes. His face is clear, and a few light freckles run of the bridge of his nose. A short scar runs over is right eyebrow, vertical to it. It runs straight down off to one side, from just above the eyebrow to just below it. He has jet black hair that often falls in his eyes and is rather messy. So overall he's pretty good looking, with a tall, muscular build. But his cheeks are kind of hollow, and scars run along his body. And you can count his ribs.
Height:
6'1
Weight:
165 pounds
Position?(flier, fighter, mechanic, etc):
Strategist; he plans raids, fights, traps, tortures, etc. You name an event, he plans it all out.
Personality:
Nathan is undescribable. It's hard to put into words what this young man is. A few that might describe his true self are cold, hateful, indifferent, calculating, manipulative, intelligent, and most importantly, detached. Sure, he has social skills, he just chooses not to use them. Most of the time anyways. Unless he's talking to someone important, or a hot girl, you're not worth his royal highness' time. Apprently. He'll brush you off, give you the cold shoulder, or just be downright indifferent to what you have to say. He's brisk, blunt, and uncaring for feelings. Crying, begging, and pleading won't get you anywhere with him. So in that way, he's a bit physchiotic. He can kill anyone, babies and elderly people alike, and all the imbetween, without blinking an eye. And he can also watch death and sadness without a care in the world. He laughs at death. He's just that detached. His eyes are cold and emotionless, looking you over in one quick glance, and determining whether or not you're worth his time. Nathan is intelligent, and detests morons. He makes a good strategist for his cold, calculating ways. He can lay a death trap for children if asked, with no questions about it. He also understands emotions and peoples minds very well, which helps with traps and raids. He knows what people are most likely to do in any given situation. Truthfully, he's a complete and utter terror for any other ships. To people Nathan deems worth his time, he is pleasant and polite, the only true self showing through being his cold smile and indifferance to emotions. To hot girls, he throws on the charm. He doesn't mind being in a relationship, as long as he keeps his emotions bottled up. Though he prefers one night stands or the whole 'friends with benefits' thing. Nathan just doesn't like sticky, messy emotions getting in the way. her prefers the whole one night stand and 'friends with benefits' sort of thing. But perhaps if he was just given a bit of TLC, he might learn to love. He'd have to meet a very patient, willing, loving, kind, and considerate young woman to help him. In fact, for Nathan to fall in love, that woman would have to be everything he is not, and accept his cold and bleak outlook on life. They'd have to try and break away his shell to find the true Nathan hidden deep down inside before he became this cynical and all anti-optimistic.
History?:
He's never said much about his history, although many have wanted to know. He usually can deflect the questions with evasive and manipulative skills learned long ago. He was born to a young couple in a poor town. His home was literally a one room shack, with curtains hung up to divide the spaces. Going without a meal or two during the day was common. His mother left Nathan and his dad when they were five, running off with some rich man she'd met. Nathan cares little about her now. His dad was already teetering on the edge of insanity, and pretty much lost it. He used up all the remaining money to buy alcohal and nearly drink himself to death. He remained in a foggy state and beat Nathan nearly everyday, and almost to the death a few times. Being young, Nathan couldn't fight him off or leave. H*ll, the kid couldn't even put food on the table. He was starving, slowly. Only getting food from a few friends and sympathetic and knowing teachers at school. But it wasn't enough. The only thing he fed himself was information. He listened well in school, and the library became his home away from home, his refugee. He feasted his brain on facts. And though his body was dying, his brain thrived. Luckily, in time, Nathan managed to survive to age seven in this torture, and began to forage and hunt in a nearby forest. He learned about making traps and snares, where animals migrated. How to follow tracks, and learning that herbavores could lead him to edible plants, while carnivors could lead him to the best prey. He kept his secret from his father out of puure loathing, and didn't even bat an eye when his father was found dead in a gutter, starved and beaten and bruised. Nathan had stopped loving that man long ago. He merely buried the man to keep others from knowing his secret. The young boy grew and lived fairly well. He kept his grades up and fed himself. But soon enough, authority found out he was living alone. He had lived without his dad until the age of thirteen until people realized what had happened. Six whole years he had lived by himself. Knowing nothing good would come of it, Nathan merely slipped away into the forest one day, and was never seen again. He chanced upon the Sky-Pirates, and relished the idea of working for them when he caught the leader's eye and was offered a spot. He was intelligent and calculating, and the job for strategist could suit him well.
Skills:
Lying, manipulating, planning, any kind of mind games, surviving.
Crush?(Fill out later if not applicable):
None

[SmileyWily]

Frankie, Crisis Mechanic in Training
Frankie started working on the clogs, both in the pipes and in his mind. How did the ship get water? I mean, we were in the air, not the sea. How clean was the water? What would happen if Alex hadn't found these clogs? Did the ship have bread? Could he have toast?
oh my gosh, he was hungry. His stomach growled at the thought of a slice of toast with melted butter topped with cinnamon. He shook the thought from his mind and started tho king of other things. Like how long this would take. He threw another handful of muck into the pile. Then he noticed that Alex had left the engine room, but heard her yell.
Good thing he hadn't been ditched. He had been ditched because the last person that ditched him ended up with a black eye and broken nose. But Alex was probably smarter than that boy. I mean, girls are scientifically Provence to have faster developing brains.
Frankie finishes with the pipe and pulls the wax. He pushed the pipe back in place and quickly screwed it back in its spot. He flew through the 3rd pipe, the clog not as bad as the first two. But the 4th was horrible. He had to take large handfuls. He finally finished after 7 handfuls. He took off his gloves, peeling them off so they were inside out. Frankie put the gloves in his satchel and climbed up the ladder.

[33Kitty]

A m a y a- C l o u d _ M e d i c

Amaya found herself relaxing and calming down in the warmth of the kitchens. Unlike the rest of the ship, they weren't at all harsh, instead seeming soft and welcoming. Other than the long straight length of deck where she often sprinted, it was her favorite place to be. She greeted Mel briefly, then turned back to Ki, for the girl had made an inquiry that she just barely caught.

"Could you?" Amaya asked in wonder, amber eyes wide. To tell the truth, she loved cheese. Cheese, cheese, cheese... Where she had grown up, it wasn't all that common traditionally, and so she regarded it as a special-occasion-only snack even now. "But um... What's a tortilla? It sounds so foreign... can hor?"

It was only then that she remembered what she had come for in the first place. "Hey, Kiki, Mel? Do you have any old clothes or rags or anything? I'm out of wound-wraps again... Sometimes you almost think it'd be more easy if they were a just bit kiasi, ne?
Healing was pretty much all she was good at, but she took pride in her work. Without a medic, how would the fighters ever be fit for attack? They get so injured, and then they have to be healthy again in a week or so, and then they'd go and get themselves stabbed again. It was quite the tedious process.

[Artesian]

TOR - Crisis Navigator

Tor was thinking.

Right now, he was thinking about how cold he was getting. He'd never get a chance to see the alps like this again. A low flyby like this was a once in a lifetime experience. It was... beautiful. That is, in the tiny moments when the snow parted enough for him to see anything but blinding whiteness. Also, it was starting to cover his goggles. Which were fogging up. And, ice was starting to crust around his mouth. Brrrrr.

All in all, he reflected, perhaps hanging out the porthole was only a good idea in decent weather. He shivered. Four layers of clothes and everything warm he owned, and he was still too cold. He reluctantly looked away from the ground below - scared he'd miss a glimpse of the mountains - and saw Alex's face through the open porthole. Tor, she was saying. What are you doing? The wind was ruining her meticulously groomed hairstyle, but she didn't seem to notice.

Ah, Alex. Tor thought quite a lot about Alex - she was one of the more interesting pirates on the ship, as well as one of the least dangerous ones. Most pirates on the ship told him to do something, watched him nod his consent, and left. Alex didn't care if he didn't talk back. She could carry on both sides of the conversation, something that Tor was quite content to let her do. She, in turn, seemed to like someone who didn't interrupt her, er, ever.

He grinned, and flapped his arms like a bird. The rope bounced a little, and the wind blew him back a few feet. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the swinging, weightless feeling. Then he turned his head again and gestured with his gloved hands: a point to himself, then made a climbing, hand over fist motion on the rope, then pointed to the hatchway. He repeated it, for emphasis, then tapped his left wrist - his watch hand, although it was invisible right now - and held up an index finger quickly, pulling it in again almost before it had flicked out.

Then he put his hands to his chest, and rubbed the encrusted snow off of the winch part of his harness.


TOR is hanging below the engine room by himself, with Alex and Frankie in the room above him.

[OoC: Sorry if this is a bit confusing... Tor's gestures can be a little ambiguous at times, but I hope it's clear enough. I'll edit, if it's not.

33Kitty: Amaya is so cute. D'awww! ]

[ET4252]

Sara, Crisis Flyer

A low growl started out of Sara's throat as Skye and Mitch dodged around her and continued to fight. Really this was just starting to piss her off, and really only when her blood started pumping and the rush of adreneline got to her head did she become dangerous. As a fighter she had charged into battle heedless of any injuries and using her instincts to guide her through fights. However it was this same feeling that drove her to seek fights that also repulsed her from them. She feared for the day that she would hurt someone close to her during one of the times that she lost it.
At the moment though it seemed that the fight might be coming to a close so making it easier for her just to take a step back. Shaking her head crossly she dodged around the two fighters and started off down the hall. Truthfully she didn't want to wait around for Skye and Mitch to finish up the fight so she ask where Ren. So she had decided that she would try and find him on her own. She had a rough idea where to look, first she would try his room since he most likely was resting after training with Skye. Now locating his room was a slightly harder task as she had only happened to pass by it once while he was leaving the room. Weaving her way towards the living quarters she found the hall she was looking for and going up to a door she thought might lead to Ren's room she gave it two heavy fisted knocks.

(sorry it is so short my parents are kicking me off the computer)

[Noel]

Skye Briht
Crisis Co-Captain, fail post

While Skye fought for strategy, fighting to win he called it, he would like to give this girl a few bruises to remember him by next time she decided he was a girl somehow. Visible ones anyways, so others would know she had been beat. But still, winning came before that, later he would find the time to hit her unsuspecting or something of the sort, assuming he wasn't too busy. With the raid coming, Skye was expecting to have immensely few free moments to do much of anything other then fight and plan. No doubt Cloud had gotten the tip-off they had, and they would meet there, and as usual a bloody fight would break out.
Skye was more used to hand-to-hand brawls then most, having lived his early life on the streets where that sort of thing was either a second nature or you died. He could wield a sword wickedly of course, but this gave him an advantage over most. Seeing that Mitch hadn't gotten out of the day before his arm was effectively holding her in a head lock, Skye tightened his grip there and yanked her to the side, which hopefully would be enough to knock her to the ground. Still dancing around the arms that sought to end the fight, something Skye was not eager to have happening, especially not now that he had the advantage, Skye saw the kick a bit too late. That leg did leg unbalanced, true. But Skye made himself lean forwards, putting his weight onto the arm that was wrapped around Mel's neck to steady himself. That would unbalance her more then him. With a small grin, he commented: "I have two legs. Hit both next time."
With that, Skye brought his free hand up to aim a punch across Mitch's face, just about as hard as he could that would be short of breaking of her nose. Of course it was not guaranteed that it would meet it's mark, naturally.