maskormenace | (no subject)

[ The video is blurry at first before eventually focusing in on a gentleman in suspenders and what can only be described as some kind of cowboy coat. Leather duster? Whatever. Despite the apparent old-fashioned getup, Mal looks relieved when he gets the comm to work. Feels relieved, in fact. ]

… Well. Least the comm tech’s familiar. Can’t say as I tend to send many messages out all public-like, but this seems t’be a special occasion.

[ And he is desperately grateful for that familiarity. He adjusts his suspenders a moment before putting on a neutral smile. ]

Evenin’. The name’s Malcolm Reynolds. Uh - Firefly captain. And since that likely don’t ring no bells, that’d be my spaceship. I’m guessin’ that ain’t something anyone’s seen hair nor hide of here, but I’d surely appreciate anyone who might have a thought to it. Don’t hardly seem fair for this so-called righteous governin’ force to go takin’ our property. Anyone else get stuck with that particular hand? Or any chance of there bein’ a chance it’s been stowed away somewhere hard t’find?

Because I surely get tetchy all land bound an’ all. Don’t hardly do me no favors to keep me out of the sky.

[ All neutral still - since, y’know, the government has to be listening in on this too. Wouldn’t do to advertise a break-in right up front. Just a good citizen wanting to not go crazy in a new world…

While he figures out how the hell to drop off the grid as fast as possible.

After a few choice conversations, he adds the following message: ]

Anyone know a good bar to get drunk in?

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[ That gets Mal's attention all the same. ]

How's it work?

... True 'nough. Ain't seen 'em do that, at least.

Honest an' true.

Yeah? Downtown in th'worst parts?

Nothin' alive?

Not even a little.

Then cheers.

Though, it does make you wonder what the point of all this is.

Do you not usually possess great gravitas?

[faint amusement] Headache from the group info dump?

[ She purses her lips, and with unveiled contempt, she says, ] No offense, but that sounds gross. Two glasses of whiskey for us, then.

[ And she says as much to the bartender before she turns her attention back to Mal. ] So, what do you think you're gonna do now that your career in controlling guns has ended?

Oh. Okay, I guess.

WAIT.

So. You're actually for real the real Mal Reynolds?

[He shakes his head at that.]

Nothing at all. [Un-living...sure. But...that's a long story Isaac doesn't want to get into.]

Sabotage that resulted in some explosions as well as a very bad crash landing. If it had't been for help on the outside everyone on board would have died. Not to mention it was just a bloody poorly designed piece of junk.

It's probably for the better. Anyway, does that mean we're still on? Because if so, I guess it's a matter of when—my schedule's flexible. I don't know about yours.

[ A little dissatisfied noise. ]

What's happening to the government? As a result.

Sounds like the world hasn't changed much in the great and distant future.

In vanishin' small amounts, sad to say.

'mong other things. Y'don't happen to know me from somewhere else, do you?

Not so much as we would hope. Little confusion, like to be some protests on Core worlds. But no rebellion further out.

You're speakin' my language. Xièxie.

[ When the drinks come he gladly goes for his portion of things. ] Ain't decided. Been too long since I been without a ship. An' there don't seem to be much work for a ranch hand.

M'sure there's mutations somewhere. Jayne coulda told you all of 'em.

Of bein here y'mean?

Seein' as how I got fired already, I ain't picky as to when neither.

Huh. Stlll more'n us. Dunno if'n that's a good thing.

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