milliways_bar | (no subject)

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mal reynolds

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Esfir is...torn between being not amused, and very amused.

See, whoever it is that is in charge of today decided that she need to let her hair down and get with the spirit of the season. And so when she came down, there was a brief moment of flailing as her centre of balance noticeably changed (heels are not exactly something she is familiar with, outside the low pumps of her formal uniform, and suddenly being over five feet in height is new and odd).

The pants she could live with*, and the...corset wouldn't kill her**, and the hat could be okay, and there is nothing wrong with her hair actually being down, and the cutlass currently slung through her belt is fairly awesome, and the hat she could get used to.

But.

"[If my dogtags do not come back within a minute, I have a sword, and I am not afraid to use it,]" she says in Russian, calmly, to whoever it is that is in control.

Almost sulkily, the chain with her dogtags appears back around her neck.

"[Thank you.]"

Now, the question is; can she walk in those heels.

*well, relatively speaking
**see above

tiny!tag: billy kaplan, leela, the russian astronaut

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See, the bar didn't do much to Mal, today.

Perhaps it is because is already dripping wet and beaming like a fool just inside the lakeside door.

Rutting pirate.

[OOC: I am uh. Actually not here. Fail. Slowtime of epic?]

[ooc: BUT OF COURSE MY DARLING!]

A faint smile.

"Did you have fun?"

Mal looks up, still bright and red from the chill of the water and all the running around.

"Like you would not believe, miss."

He hasn't thought about events at home all day. It's a nice feeling.

"I have a good imagination."

"Well, livin' in space gives a special level of enjoyment to a piratey sea battle 'tween folk on the lake."

Her green eyes brighten.

"You live in space? On space ship?"

Mal mumbles something in Mandarin; probably a note to self on the whole 'polluting the timeline' deal.

"Shi a -- captain a spaceship, name o' Serenity."

"Oh! Well. Pleased to meet you, then."

"I'm guessin' you're...not so much, with the living in space or anythin'. You from Earth-that-Was?"

Mal's very swift. Really. It's just that he's distracted himself by asking a passing waitrat for a towel.

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Leela is slouched on a stool looking a bit grumpy.

The eye patch is gone, but in its place Bar has seen fit to give her a hat. Which will not come off her head.

"Blast it all, ye bilge rat. I'm not amused by this!"

A tankard of grog appears in front of her.

All right. That's slightly better.

"I don't think many are," Esfir points out, gratefully pulling herself up onto a stool.

"That is a very awful hat, though."

"Bloody Bar. She can make a mighty fine martini, devil a doubt, but she's rubbish with fashion."

'I could give you the eye patch back! X('

Leela covers the napkin with her drink, and looks at Esfir.

And does not laugh.

"Buy ye somethin' to take the edge off, mate?"

"I wouldn't say no." Beat. "And, I could buy you something for also smoothing of edges?"

Leela taps the bar and two tumblers of rum appear.

Esfir gets a smirk.

"Take it English ain't yer first language, lass?"

"Russian."

It explains the accent.

And the ridiculously nice cheekbones.

"By the gods, this bloody holiday is probably worse on ye than anybody," Leela sighs.

"Bar, if y' please?"

'Fine. But the hat stays.'

"But it's not my color!" comes the relatively normal sounding voice. "That's better, at least. My name is Leela."