milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

kaylee frye

(no subject)

Simon Tam is on a field trip, to return in a few days.

Kaylee Frye is tired of staring at walls, tired of working, tired of protein, and mostly tired.

She doesn't stoop so far as to dress up to go to Milliways -- that would be taking things just one step too far -- but she's wearing a (high-necked) shirt, and looking (mostly) calm.

First things first: dinner, and dessert. Dinner is meat on a stick. Dessert is fruit on a stick. There are sticks involved. There is also a booth involved.

Also, something pink and poisonous-looking in cocktail form. If you're going to do something, do it right.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The food on a stick is... mesmerizing. Bela can't help but notice it as she walks by.

"Is that a shish kabob?"

Or is it just fruit on a stick? Bela must know!

"It's on a stick," Kaylee offers. "Mostly I just call it... stuff on a stick."

"That's handy for not getting plates dirty," she observes. "I'll have to keep it in mind when I tire of Chinese takeout."

Kaylee looks blank.

"Chinese... takeout?"

We have to remember:

1. Kaylee grew up in a small town;

2. Kaylee left the small town for an itinerant life of quasi-crime;

3. A lot of what Kaylee eats is, in fact, Chinese food (or Chinese-influenced).

"Food delivered from restaurants in cute little boxes," she translates. Or hopes she does.

"Oh." Kaylee's expression clears. "Well -- I'd still recommend a plate with it, especially if it comes with sauce -- get everything all sticky -- "

"Hmm, yes, I suppose you're right. But still, it's an intriguing way to have one's dinner."

"'S a good way to eat when you're walkin' around lookin' at stuff." Kaylee figures that new culinary experiences should be encouraged! "Can do two things at once."

"But- you're not eating or walking at the moment?"

Kaylee shrugs.

"I just like meat on a stick."

"It does look good," says Bela. "Do you just order it that way? Meat on a stick?"

"I asked for yang rou chuan. 'S lamb. But you could get beef. If you wanted. Or... whatever kind of meat, I reckon."

Pause.

"Come to think of it, no reason askin' for meat on a stick wouldn't work."

"I think I'll give it a try." She flags down a waitrat. "Meat on a stick, please. Like hers." She points helpfully to Kaylee's meal.

The rat scurries off.

"Well, we'll see, won't we? I'm Bela, by the way."

"I'm Kaylee -- gāoxìng jìandào nĭ." Kaylee watches the rat's progress. "You ever wonder how they can hold up whole plates like that?"

"I try not to think about it too much," she says. "If I did, I would be utterly creeped out."

"Any reason not to think it's magic too?"

"Oh, it's not the magic. I'm fine with the magic. It's the rattiness. I live in New York City. I see more of them in the wild than I like to think."

New York City.

Magic.

Kaylee's glance gets a little wary. (She's not very good at dissembling.)

"Like." She recovers after a few seconds. "How many would you say a week?"

"Rats? In the city proper?" She considers. "I don't know, maybe one or two a week, depending on whether I'm in alleyways or not. Why?"

Kaylee shrugs a little, glancing away. "Just... seemed like the thing to ask. I mean, I don't know how many rats are in New York, give or take, and -- and it's always nice to learn about new places."

"New places with rats in?"

She's good with reading people. She has to be. Something in her words shook Kaylee up quite a bit. She could pursue, ask questions, but that hasn't turned out so well for her.

So let's have a subject change!

"Where are you from?"

"...all over, I guess you could say." Kaylee stirs her cocktail a little. "Right now I'm on a transport ship, runs freight mostly. How about you?"

"New York City, 2005. A ship on the ocean?"

Kaylee shakes her head. "Space."

2005. Kaylee -- with Peter it was 2006, so --

It doesn't prove anything.

"Oh, space. That's fabulous. Say, you don't know- oh, what was his name. It started with an 'M', I think. He said he was a spaceship captain. I met him on my very first visit here."

Kaylee tilts her head to the left. "Malcolm Reynolds?"

"Yes," she exclaims. "He was very welcoming. And hot. Do you know him?"

It is a good thing Kaylee is not drinking anything, because Bela would have cocktail on her.

"Yeah -- I, uh. He's the captain of the ship I'm on."

And he's married.

"Lucky you."

That's usually not something Bela notices. Or cares about.

"So where do you go in space? I mean, all over to different planets, or what?"

Kaylee rolls her eyes. "Not hardly -- spend enough time with him bossin' you around and he won't seem so gorram pretty soon enough."

She picks up her cocktail. "Pretty much -- you could call us independent contractors, I guess?"

Emphasis on the Independent.

"We go where the work is."

"That's what I do, too. People ask me to find things for them, and I find them."

Which doesn't sound entirely legal. Then again, neither's what she does.

"Takes a lot of talent, I'd think," she comments.

"A little," she says, with a smile. "And a lot of luck, too."

She stirs her drink. "So not always easy to come by a steady paycheck, then?"

"I do well enough. I procure rare and valuable things for an elite clientèle. It pays the bills."

And then some.

Kaylee looks a little surprised. "That's all? I mean, if they're elite..."

"Maybe it pays more than the bills," she grins. "I don't like to boast."

"Well, there's boastin'," Kaylee says practically, "and then there's fair market value, you know what I'm sayin'?"

"That I do."

She takes a bite of the meat on the stick that was no doubt brought several tags back.

"This meat on a stick is a fabulous thing. I'm glad I stopped and said hello."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only