milliways_bar | (no subject)

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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"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."

The tiny woman grins, and offers her hand.

"Esfir Shostakovna."

"Nice to meet you, Esfir. Can't say I've seen you around before."

Of course, the pirate costume is a little different.

"I am often up with the flight sims. Also, look different. Hair around my head, and practical clothes."

If Leela had eyebrows, she would be arching one.

"You fly?"

"Yes."

"Me too."

"Oh? Ship or plane?"

"Ship. I captain the Planet Express delivery ship, out of New New York."

"Freighter?"

Leela looks mildly indignant.

"No. Bar, would you mind?"

A picture of the space ship materializes.

"What about you?"

That's a challenge in Leela's voice.

"Now days, this girl."

A model appears.

"Fighter pilot."

"Not bad," she concedes (somewhat reluctantly).

"Do you see a lot of action?"

"Not yet, but...soon."

"Been in a few fine scrapes myself. Dangers of the job."

"In my world, I swore an oath to protect my country. It's something you accept."

Pause.

"What is your job, if you don't move cargo?"

"Military?" Leela asks.

She shrugs, considering how to answer Esfir's question.

"We do deliver packages. Planet Express Delivery Company: Your packages are important; our crew is not! It's, uh... It can be a little more dangerous than mail delivery."

Like near-death experiences at every turn and evil aliens seeking her blood. That sort of thing.