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River.

Booth. Back against the wall, one leg tucked under her and one knee pulled to her chest. Watching the room. What she sees in it is, as usual, an open question.

The sullen look of a teenager who's not in a particularly good mood, layered with River's tendency to be distracted by empty air.

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"He will," River assures him.

She bends, in an easy and only mildly contorted pose, to lift the (large) peacoat off the (small) rat.

"You'll get a hernia," she informs it solemnly. "Ask for compensatory pay."

The waitrat nods in agreement but moves on quickly.

Both dressed and ready to go, Mal keeps the bowl in hands that he has wrapped in the scarf Samantha gave him - he forgot gloves! - and walks through the back door to the stables.

River follows.

She looks around with interest. She makes her way out to the pastures often, but it's been a long time since she was in the stable building itself.

Mal fair bounces as he enters the stables.

What? He's in a good mood. Plus the motion keeps him warm.

He moves down to the last stall on the left, where Tequila is already standing, perked as the new arrivals.

He seems to be focusing more on River than Mal though.

River smiles at Tequila, the tiny soft smile that only animals can coax.

She leans on the stall, and holds out an empty hand for him to sniff.

Mal holds out the bowl to River.

"You gonna see if he'll take some?"

"You can't rush snacktime."

She takes one, delicately, and rolls it into her palm. Tequila sniffs at her fingers, and then lips up the grape.

She smiles at the horse. "Baby soul," she croons softly. "He's remembering the world."

Mal smiles a bit wistfully.

"Hope some o' the memories are good ones."

River nods, and rests her chin on a folded arm atop the stall wall.

"Big world," she murmurs. "Lots to teach him. He can remember what grapes are."

"Well at least there's that.

"I ain't tried to ride 'im yet. Want him to feel comfortable first, calm."

He could probably ride him right now, but he hasn't yet. The comfortable excuse is not going to work for too much longer.

River glances at him, and then back at the horse. Still smiling.

Softly, "He'll be okay."

She raises a hand to rub his nose, gently.

"Good."

Mal pops a grape into his mouth.

"Y'know," as he chomps the grape, "'e's open for crew, once I start ridin' 'im, make sure he's kosher for folk. Don't know how comfortable you are with ridin', but if you want, he's here."

"I can ride."

River beams at him.

"It's a group activity."

"One big family then."

"I'll paint his toenails," she says contentedly, and strokes the horse's nose. Tequila whuffles into her hand.

"Just not pink."

River is disappointed!

"It's pretty," she protests. "The evidence is solid!"

Mal purses his lips, scratching the back of his neck.

"If Tequila'll stand for it."

River is Plotting Plots. Oh yes.

"Boukephalos will be moral support," she assures Mal.

"I did hear about that once upon a time, about you and Anthy.

"I suppose if the warhorse is up for the painting, Tequila'd do alright with it."

Mal's not altogether sure he likes it.

River is smug.

"Fine. Can ya promise me somethin' though?"

River glances at him, the smugness sliding away.

"Do not tell Kaylee I'm lettin' ya do the pink thing. She will use it against me til I'm old and gray."

Pause.

"Er."

A tiny smile, like a silent giggle.

"I'll keep your secret, captain," she promises solemnly.

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badinlatin - 2005-11-30 23:07 (UTC) - Expand

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river_meimei - 2005-11-30 23:11 (UTC) - Expand

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