milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Mel got a note with her lunch.

She read it. She read it again.

Then she wrote a reply:

Dent,
Come talk to me. Purple/blue hair. Big red axe.
Mel Fray

The hair, the axe, the Security badge and cheese-fondue-for-one can now be found at her usual central table, where the Slayer is kicking back and wondering if Steph would know who he is.

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There's apples.

"Not half bad," Mal munches approvingly, double-dipping.

"Besides hot and messy food, what have you been runnin' about doing?"

"Crime."

He expected anything else? Mel smirks, doubly proud of that. "And killing. Lurks gettin' restless again. How's space?"

"Black and vast-y."

Mal looks...slightly less amused with life than Mel does.

"Reavers gettin' restless again. We went to help."

As far as Mel's concerned, Reavers are something like lurks-in-space, only Mal's team doesn't generally consist of people as magically endowed as Mel, give or take a River.

"How'd it go?" she asks, curious but not worried. He'd have led with the bad news if it was extra bad.

Mal really should be more specific.

"The Doc went down to the surface to help the folk that survived."

There's a beat of indecision, which passes without ceremony; Mal doesn't know how well Mel knows the Crowley seen in Milliways.

She wouldn't even recognise the name. In all this time there're still some people she's never once met.

Instead, she nods.

"Many get away?"

"More than I'd thought there would've been."

It's enough of a silver lining, for Mal.

"They'll live."

"Good."

And it is. It's what matters. "Anything still needs killing, I'm here."

Because Mel doesn't do sympathy. She does killing stuff.

Works for Mal, most days. "Think you're doin' enough by providing liquidy cheese."

"I'm just eating it," Mel points out. "Bar does the providing."

"Fair. Speaking of the Bar, did you hear about Raph and Jayne?"

Mal should not laugh.

Mal should not laugh.

Mal should not laugh.

Mel should not laugh.

But she's clearly struggling.

"Panda suits him."

"I was more focused on Jayne finally finally bein' a girl's name on my boat."

A feigned grumpiness: "And me without a vidcapture."

"We should get cams in the bar," Mel reflects, looking up to establish the best places for surveilance "I miss all the spled toy."

"I'm surprised there isn't some kind o' security feeds going on, now that I think on it.

"Not anythin' against Security, but y'all can't be here all the time."

"We're not laws," Mel points out. "Here to break up fights, not monitor feeds all day."

"...Right."

You just argued for security feeds. What the hell, Reynolds.

"Besides, axes tend to be more of a deterrent than cameras."

That may or may not have been Mel's thought process as well.

"And more fun," she remarks.

"Just so long as it's fun far away from me at the business end o' the thing."

After approximately six apple slices, Mal's chin thumps down on Mel's table.

"I'm bored."

"Not enough people trying to kill you?"

Actually, that's sympathy, not sarcasm. Mel hates boredom.

"Piss someone off."

[OOC: ICON EEE]

Still from the table: "I haven't had someone try to shoot me in months. We're headed to Ezra though; maybe that'll change."

To Mel's suggestion, Mal shakes his head. "Haven't had a problem in the bar in a good long while. Any recommendations as to who I should pick on?"

That's a serious question and deserves consideration.

"Not me," Mel suggests. "You couldn't take me.

"Anyone really got it coming?"

"I'm wounded.

"Not anyone I can think of. Ain't seen War in forever, Niska neither."

"Tried messing with Raph?"

That's always fun. For Mel.

"Don't even think I know him well enough to."

Chortle. "Not that that stopped Jayne any."