milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Serenity's got about another 32 hours before they hit Ezra.

The waiting before a job is usually the worst part, and today Mal is feeling it more so than others. He's checking in with the bar when he receives an eyepatch and a watergun the likes of which he hasn't seen since that ridiculous Assassin game in April.

There's a smirk when he shoves the eyepatch into his pocket, hopping behind the bar and scrawling out a sign before asking Bar for a 3' by 5' cloth.

Mal walks out the door to the lake, damn near whistling.

[ooc: I'm on gchat for any coordinating that might want to happen. Uh. It's not a huge boat, but it'll do. I'll put up an organizing post somewhere if this gets people involved.

ETA: This thread is for any arrivals if you are participating in shenanigans.

ETA AGAIN: OOC COMMUNICATIONS.

And it continues: The Battle Thread. Onlookers welcome.

And food for the spectators. And the winner, obviously.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ooh.

"I suppose. Rather have him foolin' about here than someplace with bullets."

Back to the concept of this pineapple Mike spoke of. "And you're just...what, feedin' the survivors?"

His smile falters, and there's a look of mischief in his eyes.

"Fine dining for the living and the dead is just one of the many services that we offer here at Milliways."

To the side of the palm tree is a red and white Igloo cooler. Mike leans over, pops the top, and retrieves a hollowed out pineapple bottom. Next there's a pitcher of smoothie that smells of passion fruit, mango, pineapple and banana.

"Thirsty?"

It smells wonderful.

"Oh, yes please." Sallie takes the coconut from Mike, turning back to the 'battle' for a second.

"Oh look! There's Malcolm!" Sallie waves --

Right before he gets doused in water.

"He doesn't seem to be doing very well. Too bad I can't see better who's winnin'."

"I'd say that anyone who comes back to shore dry is the real loser, but only because dry people don't get cocoa."

Mike would make the best Soccer Mom.

He really would. However, there's an important question.

Who would want cocoa when there's this pineapple-y stuff?

"Why aren't you out there, mister?" Sallie asks.

Mike is taken in again with the sea battle.

"Hmm? Oh, because I'd win. I've an unfair advantage, you see. Ninja."

Awful full of himself, this Barman is.

"And you think ninjas are better than pirates?"

Pirate's mom you're talkin' to, here.

"I don't think it, I know it."

Space pirates don't count!

"You're gonna have to explain yourself son. Bein' able to make me a fruity drink don't mean you've got skills like pirates do."

"Nah I think just being fruity does that."

He grins at his own pun.

"I've nothing against pirates as people. I mean, some of my best friends are pirates. But as a group they're just not as highly trained as ninjas. I mean...what it just takes a boat, right?"

"Don't let 'em hear you say that," Sallie advises.

"That's all part of being a ninja. Mocking hard and then fading away, without a trace."

"In -- " Waggly fingers. "Slippers."

"And pajamas! Seriously, how can we not be cooler just by virtue of the fact that we get to work in our pjs?"

Sallie gesticulates with the coconut shell.

"You may have a point," the woman laughs, continuing to watch her son make a gorram fool of himself and have a good laugh about everything.

Not a bad plan, really.

"Of course I do. The only thing sweeter than being a ninja is being so good at being a ninja that you can retire from being a ninja."

At that Mike digs his toes a little deeper into the sand and sighs happily.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only