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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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"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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