milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Simon Tam comes stalking out of the infirmary in a cold fury, and heads in the direction of the --

wait.

A few paces into the room he slows, then comes to a stop. His hands and arms relax from their taut anger, and his eyebrows draw down slowly in bewilderment.

He looks back over his shoulder with an expression that says, as clearly as though he'd spoken aloud: what the tiān xiăodé just happened?

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"Yeah."

A pause, and then reluctantly: "That wasn't the strange part."

He laughs, dryly. "I was gonna say: the conversation was the wackier option there?"

A beat.

"How strange are we talking about?"

Simon rubs his forehead, his brows furrowing again.

"It was ... we both got angry. Unbelievably angry. And for the life of me I can't remember why, now."

That earns a quick, uneasy glance, slanted the way of the infirmary.

"Was this the kind of conversation less with the words and more with the punching?" he asks. "Please don't say there was punching. Or throwing into walls."

Simon shakes his head. "No, we didn't come to blows. ...Though it came close, just now."

He twists to look over his shoulder at the hallway that leads to the infirmary.

"Okay, well...."

Wash settles in, elbows on the bar, and starts ticking off options on his fingers.

"Talked to anybody weird? Eaten anything weird? Looked at anyone weirdly? Had somebody possibly look at you weirdly, including animals or inanimate objects?"

It's Milliways. All bases must be covered.

Simon stares at Wash for a moment before dissolving into quiet laughter.

"Oh good god. You're right, you know. There's ... I can't think of any way to narrow down the possibilities."

Wash grins, despite himself.

"Magic bars," he remarks. "Fun and useful on principle, completely crazy on...even when they're being fun and useful."

He sobers fairly quickly. "I almost hope that's all it was. Something affecting us."

A sigh. Quietly, "Mal'll cool off eventually if it wasn't. It might involve a week's worth of hiding in the cargo bay, but...."

"Or here."

Almost absently, Simon steals a lonely-looking slice of cucumber off the edge of Wash's salad bowl.

"Or here," he agrees, and pushes the bowl a little closer to facilitate more stealing. "Nice rooms, nice forest, nice lake if you ignore the huge gorram shark swimming around in there: all very suitable for hiding."

"I'd rather not," he says softly. "On the whole."

Wash's half-quirked smile fades.

"He'll get over it," he repeats, even softer. He nabs a curl of bell pepper from his salad. "You're crew."

"You're probably right."

I hope so.

"Maybe he's just ... on edge right now. It would be understandable."

It wouldn't explain his own behavior just now, or his feelings, but it might explain Mal's.

Wash nods. One thumbnail creates a depression in the pepper slice as he examines it.

"Does Zoe...?"

She would have said something if she'd known. He hopes she would have.

Simon shakes his head. "I was going to tell her earlier, but I couldn't find her."

Deadpan, "Shiny."

The pepper's growing more fascinating by the minute.

"I guess I'll....If I see her first."

He nods.

And frowns.

Something's niggling at him.

Wash, meanwhile, gives up and starts nibbling on the end. He glances over at Simon after another moment's silence.

"What?"

"I'm ... not sure."

He picks up another slice of cucumber and studies it.

Maybe salad holds the secrets of the universe.

Does that make Milliways the garbage disposal?

"What was the guy's name?"

Or possibly the compost heap. If you're inclined towards the cyclical model.

"The soldier? He says everyone calls him Red, and that's the name Mal seemed to know him by."

He nods, chewing his bottom lip briefly.

Zoe never mentioned a Red.

Then again, Zoe never mentions many details about the war, and Wash hardly ever asks if he could help it.

"I don't know when I last saw anyone so terrified."