milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Fly, my monkeys, fly! Do my evil bidding!

-- is what Wash would be saying if knew anything about The Wizard or Oz. Or, in fact, had flying monkeys on hand.

Instead, he has a remote-controlled Hummer, which is turning swift figure-eights around the many table legs in the bar...and, through the miracle of modern technology and a few well-placed modifications, has a small vid recorder mounted on top.

It's almost as good.

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Why Satine is better than a BattleBot: she shrieks. It could disable an opponent instantly at close range.

Aaaaand she trips. You'd never think she could dance in those things.

Instantly, the Hummer halts.

From the other side of the bar: "Sorry! Sorry, I didn't -- "

And soon there's a badly-dressed man at her side: cane in one hand, remote control in the other, and guilty look firmly in place.

Stumble stumble stumble stumble FWUMP! Right up against the Bar for support.

Cue one bewildered, Bambi-when-he-first-encounters-ice-legged, fin-de-siecle redhead. "Is that tiny automoble yours?" She's more baffled than anything else.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I couldn't get it out of the way in time -- are you okay? Normally the dodging wayward patrons works out better than that."

And then there's a more surreptitious is my car okay? as he picks up the Hummer and gives it a once-over.

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry, it's my fault, I'm a little distracted at the moment."

Not so much by the very recent painful conversation with Jack, though: more along the lines of technology of the future! "Are you making that thing work?"

"Uh-huh." Another quick examination of his toy, and a tiny grin for Satine as he sets the Hummer on the Bar. "Remote controlled. We got better ways to do it, but it's fun and cheap and something a friend from five hundred years behind me gave me, so I am complaint-free. See, look."

He tilts the remote so she can follow and pushes both levers forward. The car begins a slow, dignified crawl down the Bar.

"Like that."

She has no idea what "remote controlled" means, but she knows she'd be even more clueless if she asks the man to explain it to her, so she just lets it go. It's quite fascinating to watch, though.

"Can I try?"

Oh, world. Fear for your feet.

"Shi a, the helm's all yours."

Another grin, and he passes it over.

"Left lever controls the left wheels, right one controls the right, so you push 'em both to go straight and just one or the other to turn. Oh, and don't touch the -- " Wash points to another lever on the top, cobbled together from parts that look nothing like the rest of the remote, "vid capture. It's not supposed to be there."

"Are you making a movie? I just saw my first movie last we--"

Oh, painful subject. Satine concentrates on making the car go.

It sort of spins and bumps into things, but with great enthusiasm!

"More like just being an obnoxious voyeur without all the getting-beat-up-by-my-wife connotations. That, and it's easier exploring the wacky insanity of Milliways when you don't actually have to do things like, oh, move."

He stuffs his free hand in his pocket and watches the car with a smile.

And tries not to wince when it almost knocks some poor hundan's drink off the bar.

"...Are you peering up girls' skirts with this?"

The man is being so open about it she has no choice but to be severely amused.

Well, she does have one other choice.

The car goes zooming down the long aisle between the Bar and the tables. A certain Ewan-shaped clone gets tripped up at the other end of the lane before Satine swings the Hummerlet around and brings it back with all possible haste.

"That would fall under the getting-beat-up-by-my-wife definition," he answers, tilting his head (and trying very hard to not snicker) as he tracks the Hummer's progress. "Maybe even the getting-killed-by-my-wife definition. Painfully. With both hands behind her back."

He steps aside to let the Hummer pass as it zooms around.

"Who was that?"

"Who's your wife?" she asks lightly, focusing on making the Hummer perform part of her "Material Girl" routine.

Satine shrugs. "I'm not sure. I hope he's all right."

Mun is wondering exactly how broken she might be if Lincoln came over to investigate.

It's a routine that's pretty stylish, but loses a certain...something in translation. Must be the poor Hummer's lack of legs and fancy dresses.

"Her name's Zoe. She's first mate on the boat I'm flying -- we've got space travel where I'm from," he explains, pre-emptively. "Anyway, going on six years now and wouldn't have it any other way. We're going to have a kid soon."

And there's nervousness, there will always be nervousness and maybe a touch of uncertainty, but his whole face will always light up like it is now, too.

And the sparkle. One mustn't forget the sparkle.

"Oh!" Satine turns to face him. The Hummer veers toward Wash rather precariously. "I've met her!"

Well, if Raven or Lilly ever get ahold of it....

Wash's eyebrows go up, and he grins. "Really? Wow, shiny, I'm usually the one that gets met first and sets up the preemptive good impression -- when'd you -- ?"

That trails into a soft, surprised yelp as the Hummer runs over his foot. It's kind of turning into an all-terrain vehicle.

Bigtheatricalgasp! "Oh my goodness! I'm so terribly, terribly sorry! It is Wash, isn't it?"

Er, convo's still in slowtime, but we'll assume the information was conveyed?

"Don't worry, my leg's gotten enough abuse from lots of other places lately." A little rueful, as he wiggles his toes and rotates his ankle around, using the cane to help him balance.

"And Wash, yeah, the one and I'm hoping only because that means somebody else got afflicted with as bad a real name as me." He extends his hand. "Nice to meet you, uh...person Zoe knows but I don't."

She takes it. "I'm Satine. It's a pleasure. You're a very lucky man."

His ears redden a little, and now the grin's edging toward goofy.

"Xiexie. I know. She's amazing, I don't know what I'd do without her." Beat. "Well, I kind of do, and it'd involve being mopey and miserable and not having anyone to keep me in line, and that's never any fun -- but, this is about introducing right now, not chapter eight million and twenty of Why I Love My Wife, so," a firm shake, "pleasure's all mine, Satine. Chapter eight million and twenty-one comes tomorrow."

Call it narcissistic but she loves it when that happens because of another woman.

She laughs. "Well, I'm glad someone out there has cause to write such a tome. In the meantime, I'm afraid I'm running a bit late for an engagement. Thank you for letting me play with your automobile." She holds out the controls.

"Anytime." He takes the remote. "See you around, Satine. Have a good night."

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