(no subject)

[flybywash]

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.

Comments

[flybywash]

Wash gapes, wounded, and rubs his forehead.

"See? This is why I need magic invisible supercookies, so I don't get turned into target practice! I demand nothing less than magic invisible supercookies."

And he scoops up the jellybaby and fires it back.

Nyah.

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

It does not return.

Hey, if he doesn't want her candy, so be it.

...

Well. Maybe he just needs a different type.

Thunk, goes the candy bar on the table.

It's a Yorkie bar.

Don't feed the birds.

[flybywash]

"One of these days, you're going to put somebody's eye out," he calls in his best Dad Voice as he promptly unwraps the Yorkie Bar.

Beat, broken by quiet enjoyment of misogynistic chocolate.

"Did that sound anywhere near intimidating? I think I need more practice."

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

And then, there is a pyro sitting in his booth.

Maybe she's sneakier than she looks.

"Maybe if y'took lessons from Mal?" She suggests helpfully. Or something.

[flybywash]

"But Mal's got that built-in intimidaty captain aura. I'm lacking there. I lack the aura."

Vague handwaving over his chest and shoulders.

"And I've been hanging around him for seven years, too, you'd think some of it would've transferred. I feel gypped."

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"Maybe there's secret captainy rituals. You should ask." She asserts, cherfully.

Preferably somewhere around someone that has a recorder. Yes.