(no subject)

[bad_in_latin]

[ 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?

Comments

[stealwithit]

Ha! No kidding. Sounds like a mismatch for a man of such a roguish manner like yourself.

By the way, don't worry about paying for drinks--it's on me. Consider it my way of welcoming you. Any preferences?

[bad_in_latin]

Can't hardly imagine why they thought it was a good idea in the first place.

[ He brightens a bit. ]

Well I'm surely grateful. Can't say as I'm much picky, seein' as how the last drink I had was moonshine cooked up in an engine.

[stealwithit]

[ 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?

[bad_in_latin]

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.

[stealwithit]

[ She's a little surprised that he breaks out the Mandarin to express his thanks, but she stows that curiosity away for a different conversation. And when the drinks come, she lifts her glass up at him in a quasi-toast before taking a sip. ]

If you're talking a literal ranch, I think someone's got their own farm started around here somewhere. And if not, you could get into rodeo or something.

[bad_in_latin]

[ It's a weird accent too, thanks Joss due to some linguistic drift and Rim culture, but identifiably Mandarin. For that phrase, anyway. ]

Literal. Raised cattle but can't say I saw no actual rodeos.

[stealwithit]

[ She looks thoughtful for a moment. ]

Huh. You really are a cowboy. From space. A space cowboy.

[bad_in_latin]

Yes ma'am. That mean somethin'?

[stealwithit]

Nothing yet, other than the fact that automatically qualifies you as a cool person.

[bad_in_latin]

There's a new one.

[stealwithit]

No one's called you cool before? Yikes.

[bad_in_latin]

Ain't a manner of slang I hear much. Plus, y'know, bein' myself.