Have you read honorh's "Out of Joint"? 'Cause she does the prompt brilliantly. Still, I gave it a try and I rather like it.
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Mal Reynolds was not in a pleasant mood.
First of all, he had a disquieting feeling that something nasty was going to happen on Beylix. There was a time when he could have paid mind to such a notion, turned tail, and gotten the gorram hell away from whatever trouble was in his path.
Now, he had no choice. He'd either take whatever scrap of nothing he could hold onto or starve along with his crew.
And if his gut tellin' him he was set to be shot in the near future wasn't disturbin' enough, River was spoutin' nonsense again.
It all seemed to go straight to hell when she was in one of these moods.
Muttering about 'northern lords' and 'storms'. Least those were the least confusin' bits before she'd gotten riled up by all of the crew's questions and disappeared.
So, he made an escape to the cargo bay. Decided to get away from the crazy for a spell.
Things never seemed to go quite right around him.
Gorram blue-box appearing on his ship like magic--or worse, Alliance tech--was the last straw.
The doors opened and a tall man with a face only a mother could love (ears the size of rice-balls!) dressed cleanly but not too finely stepped out.
He raised his hands once he caught sight of the gun aimed between his eyes.
"Listen, I've had a bad day and it's about to get worse. Don't quite feel like cleaning bits of your brain offa my deck--so why don't you back inside your blue box 'fore it comes to that?"
The strange man shot him a sympathetic smile.
"Fair enough," he answered in an odd sort of accent as he stepped back into his machine.
"Day's getting better already," Mal grinned as the blue box disappeared from sight.
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Date: 2007-10-25 10:02 pm (UTC)Have you read
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Mal Reynolds was not in a pleasant mood.
First of all, he had a disquieting feeling that something nasty was going to happen on Beylix. There was a time when he could have paid mind to such a notion, turned tail, and gotten the gorram hell away from whatever trouble was in his path.
Now, he had no choice. He'd either take whatever scrap of nothing he could hold onto or starve along with his crew.
And if his gut tellin' him he was set to be shot in the near future wasn't disturbin' enough, River was spoutin' nonsense again.
It all seemed to go straight to hell when she was in one of these moods.
Muttering about 'northern lords' and 'storms'. Least those were the least confusin' bits before she'd gotten riled up by all of the crew's questions and disappeared.
So, he made an escape to the cargo bay. Decided to get away from the crazy for a spell.
Things never seemed to go quite right around him.
Gorram blue-box appearing on his ship like magic--or worse, Alliance tech--was the last straw.
The doors opened and a tall man with a face only a mother could love (ears the size of rice-balls!) dressed cleanly but not too finely stepped out.
He raised his hands once he caught sight of the gun aimed between his eyes.
"Listen, I've had a bad day and it's about to get worse. Don't quite feel like cleaning bits of your brain offa my deck--so why don't you back inside your blue box 'fore it comes to that?"
The strange man shot him a sympathetic smile.
"Fair enough," he answered in an odd sort of accent as he stepped back into his machine.
"Day's getting better already," Mal grinned as the blue box disappeared from sight.