milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Hm?"

He looks up from a small web highlighting the main power network of the Academy, plus main and auxiliary control rooms.

"Oh, er. Hi."

"Nice handiwork you got there." Start soft. "Not much tech in this place ever looks like it came from my 'verse, but that most assuredly does."

"Oh, it's not mine, I just had it passed along, for - "

He pauses, eyeing Mal appraisingly, and then raises an eyebrow.

"Serenity?"

Mal's eyes go wider than is most likely natural.

"What of 'er?"

"You wouldn't happen to be a crew member, would you?"

"I would happen to be the captain."

The captain who immediately regrets any and all accidental rhyming.

"Oh, Mal Reynolds?"

He stands, offering his hand.

"Crowley. I may've offered my services with regard to a certain Heroic Mission."

Mal shakes Crowley's hand. Cautiously.

"Pleased to meet ya, then. So - how's it that you came to volunteering for doom and destruction?"

"I, um."

He sits back down, inviting Mal to do the same with a wave of his hand.

"Got to know River. Reminds me of someone I used to know. And then Roland explained to me about, you know, the Beams, and the Tower, and it... made sense to me. And I thought, well, shit, everyone needs a hobby - mine might as well be saving the world. Required practical experience, and all."

Mal listens oh-so-carefully to Crowley, and his face assumes the I'm not going to understand any of this look.

"So this is the point I'm gonna say welcome and ask you if you have any wonderfully insightful opinions about attacking a fortress."

"Well, I mean. Space stations aren't exactly my specialty - twenty-first century, and that - but..."

He leans forward, in order to better point out something on the map.

"Here's a docking bay. Fairly near, a control room, which I assume might be a good idea to muck up, to turn off... I don't know, security cameras, or whatever internal defences they have, or make sure they can't do anything nasty to us with airlocks, or whatever. Then here, the 'power core', which - I don't know much about twenty-sixth century technology, but that sounds volatile and blow-up-able, if we're looking to take this place down. All near each other."

He then switches the blueprints about on the table.

"Then here, what's labelled as the main staff quarters - which probably includes security guards, am I right? All the way almost on the other side of the station. We attack at mealtimes, like Roland says, most everyone'll either be in the dining halls - " he points to them " - or way the fuck over in the staff quarters. Leaving us as clear a path and as long a time as we're likely to get to get the job done."

He snorts slightly, running his eyes over the layout.

"I didn't know any better, I'd say whoever designed this place was on our side."

Mal might actually agree with the...new person.

"These plans do give me more of a happy about this whole mess than is prudent, I'll admit."

A voice, speaking with great patience, says, "See, that's because you're crazy, sir."

Wash leans over Mal's shoulder to look at the plans, shooting Crowley a genuine smile as he does. "Hey, Crowley. Good to see you."

Mal eyes Crowley, then Wash, then Crowley again. Cuz Crowley's second-look worthy. Never gonna figure that one out, I'm thinkin'.

"I think I'll leave you both to talk 'bout...whatever you might need to talk about." Mal nods to Wash, giving up his seat.

Time for a drink.

He grins up at Wash, as Mal heads off towards the bar.

"Let me guess - he's the gruff anti-hero type with a heart of gold."

Wash smirks, sliding into the recently-vacated chair.

"Down to the letter, but I wasn't the one who told you. How's the recent resurrection treating you?"

"Took a bit to adjust to, you know, having nerve endings and such again, but I'm back up to speed now. Minus a certain amount of disfiguring scars, which is always a bonus."

He takes a sip of his coffee, surreptitiously detaching a quickly-sketched paper copy of the blueprints from the bottom of his mug.

"You?

He picks an invisible piece of lint off of his Hawaiian shirt, the smile turning a bit more wry. "Well, can't say there's been any resurrections on my part, but things are pretty shiny for being three days away from craziness and chaos. We're all kind of enjoying the 'Wow, it sure is calm today' part before the lightning suddenly starts splitting trees in half."

"Am I the only one who thinks we'll come out fine? We have, on our side, an angel, a demon, a Slayer," he starts counting them off on his fingers, "a mutant superhero, a powerful wizard, an experienced space-ship crew, and a tet of gunslingers. And most of the above have had, to a greater or lesser degree, first-hand experience in saving the world."

"...When you put it like that."

Still smiling, but he shakes his head a little.

"I don't know, we've had too many 'easy' things go amazingly, psychotically wrong for us before now. I can't deny the being reassured by the gunslingers, but...." A casual shrug. "Can't count on anything 'til it's over."

"Nah." He waves a dismissive hand. "I mean, what, nineteen people? Twenty? Against the mighty forces of the Academy and the Crimson King? 'Course we'll come out on top, it's narrative law."

A beat. Wash breaks into a sudden grin, and starts laughing.

"We need more stories like that," he says.

"So, what's the plan for getting everyone there? Milliwaysers just file through onto Serenity as we're coming up?"

"Far as I know. We've been occasionally taking on people to get a look around so everyone's got a feel for it beforehand, but mostly that's how it's...."

Wait. There's a thought. He tilts his head toward the door.

"You want the grand tour so long as we got you here?"

He shrugs.

"Sure, why not?"

Translation: omg spaceship!