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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Wash looks back, expression arranged into studious innocence. "What? It's not like I'm going to tell anyone."

Scritch.

"Except Zoe."

Scritchscritch.

"And maybe Mal and Kaylee and Ace."

He's grinning.

*The purr returns, grudgingly.*

*Wash's hand is batted by a playful, clawless paw.*

There's a quiet, surprised 'ack!'

He tries to bat the paw right back.

*The cat blinks.*

*And tries again.*

*Bat!*

Pilot's reflexes are a bit higher than most.

But are they high enough to grab a paw between both hands in mid-bat?

*Ack! It's caught!*

*entreatingly* Miaow?

"See, look, now I don't have any hands to pet you with," Wash sighs, feigning disappointment. "Your crazy plot to distract me worked. Unless you want me to pet you with my elbows, which is just ruttin' uncomfortable."

*It tilts its head, wondering if it'll have to deploy claws before this human lets its paw go.*

Luckily, after a few more seconds, Wash releases its paw and rubs the cat between the ears.

"You need a name. Kind of want to start calling you Sirius, but the irony would kill us all. Polaris?"

*The cat's ears flatten at the sound of the first name. That's the Dog Star, stupid. Polaris gets an inquisitive tilt of the head with perked ears, though.*

"Yeah. Goes with the white and the north-thing, but. Hm."

Wash frowns slightly as he rifles through his mental catalogue of stars. After a minute's silence, he brightens.

"Al Na'ir. I think you're bright enough to pull that off. What do you think?"

*Interesting name. It will do. Al Na'ir bumps Wash's hand with its head, purring approvingly.*

*Then he pads around Wash's hand and begins lapping at the milkshake. Evil Al Na'ir.*

His jaw drops. Accusingly, "Hey!"

But he's laughing a little, and he only makes a half-hearted effort to pull the milkshake away this time.

*So maybe the paw that wraps around the milkshake won't tip it over?*

Maybe. But it's more likely it'll start to topple over, and when Wash scrambles to catch it, the shake will end up sloshing all over his French toast.

Wash looks at the half-empty glass, looks at what used to be his dinner, and groans. "This is payback for the alien comment, isn't it?" he asks. "Bad cat."

*The kitty gives Wash the ol' Adorable Eyes.*

*Who? Him? A bad cat? NO!*

"Yes, you are." Beat. Resigned, "Oh, don't look at me like that."

....Mostly because he has no resistance whatsoever to Adorable Eyes. As evidenced by the fact that he goes right back to petting Al Na'ir not too long afterwards.

*The cat carefully adds another human to its collection, and settles down for a nice long petting session. Smuuuug.*

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