milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Wash. Booth.

Very nice (unopened) bottle of rum and assortment of spices.

Milkshake, newspaper, French toast.

Insert verbs as necessary and have at.

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Raven laughs.

"I think the alcohol, perhaps. Though spices may be rare, where you come from. I am uncertain."

He blinks.

"You might be equally excited about them?"

"Mm, not so much 'rare' as 'very useful in making bad food edible.' And they'll probably last a hell of a lot longer than the alcohol, too."

He eyes the bottle thoughtfully.

"It is wrong," he says solemnly, mostly to himself, "to open something that's meant for the entire crew before they have a chance to see it."

Raven blinks innocently.

"I could hold it in trust for you, until you leave tonight. That way you will not be tempted."

"But resisting temptation builds character. Or...just drives you crazy. One of the two. Maybe both."

"Perhaps it builds crazy character? It is worthwhile, I think, in small doses."

"Very tiny doses."

He moves the bottle behind the napkin holder so it's mostly out of sight.

"Fortunate that the spices are not something that can be consumed alone?"

"I guess I could, but it'd all end in tears and heartburn."

"You are very wise, Wash. Such things should only happen to other people."

"This could be a fearsome weapon," Wash says with a sage nod, tapping a finger against the tin. "No gastrointestinal tract is safe in the hands of the wrong person. I should try it on Jayne sometime when I'm less with the wanting to preseve my life."

"If it accidentally spills into Jayne's food because someone tripped over your foot and into the table, it is not your fault at all."

"Exactly. Or if I make the mistake of turning my back and somebody slips it into the food when it's my night to cook, well, I have no choice but to wash my hands of it."

"Yes. This is very true."

Raven nods.

"People should know to stay out of the kitchen when someone is cooking."

"There can be warning signs. Big flashing ones. I like this."

He spears a few bits of French toast and pops them in his mouth.

"So what've you been up to?" he asks once he's finished chewing.

"Mostly causing mild sorts of trouble, perhaps. I plot against your captain."

He blinks innocently.

"Your mechanic aids me. I was informed of grass skirts?"

Wash snorts out a laugh.

"And Hawaiian shirts," he adds. "And limbo. I have pictures, and if I had my way, they would be preserved and duplicated life-size on the Cortex."

Raven blinks.

"Such things should be recorded for future generations. The lack of preservation is a travesty of justice, perhaps."

"Is this where you come in with the plotting mischief?"

This is the kind of innocent look it takes years to perfect.

Raven nods solemnly. No one would ever suspect such a face. Long long centuries have gone into it. It almost matches Wash's.

"Theoretically, yes."

"Uh-huh."

He sneaks a glance over his shoulder at the door.

"Well...I still have some copies in my bunk...."

Raven blinks, still totally innocent.

"It might be best to wait until there are sparkly pictures, also."

He grins, then.

"But I have said too much."

See those eyebrows? You didn't think they could go that high, did you?

"See, I think we could debate that," he says, a slow grin starting to tug at his lips, too.

Raven's grin only broadens.

"Ace gave me body glitter. I have been sharing the joy of it with other people."

Poor, unfortunate, unsuspecting people.

Wash blinks.

"Why does that surprise me and yet not surprise me at all?"

"Because glitter is very girly, but you know me rather well?"

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flybywash - 2005-08-25 04:18 (UTC) - Expand

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creator_raven - 2005-08-25 04:24 (UTC) - Expand

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