milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[ oom: this cowboy keeps his word ]

He didn't expect to see the bar just yet.

Doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate the happenstance.

Ben Wade heads toward the counter to order a whiskey. He's in a damn good mood.

[ tiny tag: the russian astronaut ]

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Esfir nods.

"That I am. I wouldn't be...useful on the ground, but put me in something with wings and guns that can fly?"

She grins, sharp and fierce and eyes alight with the sheer joy of flying (and fighting, never let us forget, but mostly flying)

"I can cause damage."

"Can you now?"

She may be getting an ~~appreciative~~ appraising once-over. Even though that look in her eyes is a little too close to the late Charlie Prince's.

(And Ben's, sometimes.)

Calmly, simply,

"Yes, I can."

A grin.

"Wouldn't mind seein' that."

A beat.

"But you said this friend ain't got the kinda machinery you're used to handlin'?"

"Han's world? Is so, so much more advanced than mine."

And that is just the glow of pure delight. Little girl in a candy store, little girl reading books of star ships and getting to see that they are real.

"So, I'm practicing. They have simulators upstairs, and the principle is the same."

Edited 2008-07-20 06:55 (UTC)

The grin widens.

"Han Solo?"

"Da," she says, those green eyes narrowing slightly. Not suspicion, just a sudden concentration of thought on Ben himself.

"I'll be damned."

A slight head-shake, a quiet chuckle.

"He's pullin' you into his revolution."

The kinda crazy I like.

She smiles.

"Yes. Yes, he is. You?"

A one-shouldered shrug.

"Ain't run into him to know. Last time I saw him was before I left."

Half a beat.

"Didn't see me, though — he was blind."

"He can see, now."

A short nod; he's genuinely glad to hear that.

"So tell me, Lieutenant," and there's a flicker of amusement in Ben's eyes, "how your trainin's goin' upstairs."

"I'm sure that's classified to people who I know their name of," she points out without losing a beat, green eyes bright and expression demure.

"Ben Wade."

A slight tip of his head.

"Southwest Arizona, 1865."

"A hundred years before me, if rather different country." Beat. "That the, uh, 'Wild West'?"

Flicker of a wry half-smile.

"Might say that."

"Oke."

That delighted look is back.

And he likes that look.

"Cowboys, outlaws. Nothin' that would hold your interest, I bet."

Smirk.

"Oh, certainly not, comrade."

Bemused, "Never did answer my question, y'know."

"It goes hard, tedious, with a lot of swearing, like all good practice does. Leaves me in a sweat afterwards, hands shaking.

And I wouldn't swap it except for a real starfighter."

"Could think of somethin' else that feels similar to that, Miss Esfir."

(flying is better)

"I'm sure you could, Ben Wade. I wouldn't swap that, either. Well. Only for flying, but nothing...less than that."

"Then we should go flyin' sometime."

A slow smile.

"So we should." A beat, a tilt of her head. "But I do not have a plane. So. Maybe I should buy you a drink, and may be I ask if you are interested in...that other thing?"

Edited 2008-07-22 04:21 (UTC)