Unification Day.
Mal's actually feeling pretty gorram jovial. Inara had cocked an eyebrow at him when he offered to take her out on August first of all the days of the year, but she simply smiled and declined, giving him a kiss on the cheek and telling him he is not allowed to bleed on her sheets later.
Mal loves his wife.
Someone is complaining about the high prices of top shelf gou pi in the dive in which Zoe, Jayne and Mal have decided to ensconce themselves for the moment and Mal laughs, still feeling fairly calm about the world. Even Zoe has relaxed around Mal.
Which is probably not the best plan in the 'verse, but no one on Serenity is known for their plans.
Once again, just like last year and that other year and oh that one too, Mal is the only man walking in a faded brown duster and he doesn't care about the looks he garners because of it. Even he notices they have gotten fewer (though not by much) in the years passing, and that jovial mood keeps him from thinking about wiping any smirks from any unfriendly faces he sees. (Though not by much.)
"Ng Ka Pe," Mal orders nearly needlessly -- it's his fourth and the bartender thinks him uninventive by now. If only he knew that Mal could get something called a root beer float at the end of any known universe if only he just went back to his ship, Mal would think him rutting boring as hell.
There it is --
"A drink to the Alliance! Sticking those shit eating Browncoats back in the dirt where they come runnin' from!"
Mal keeps a smile on his face. Zoe and Jayne are waiting for him to even flinch, but he hasn't yet.
More calls cry out in agreement (though there are a few dissenting ones Mal takes note of) and ten minutes pass before Mal needs a refill. It's old hat by now -- middle of a loud bar, toasts screamed and hollered for damn near miles and some son of a bitch who doesn't know when to shut his trap keeps going about Du Khang and how many dust devils he must've shot dead there when Mal's hand flies to the back of the patron's head, slamming it down nose-first into the bartop.
Mal thinks idly that Mike would disapprove.
Apparently the patron didn't have many friends at the bar; the tender demands twelve bits to pay for the glasses Mal broke, but the same price also gets him a refill. Zoe and Jayne find an empty checkers board to occupy themselves with.
Someone calls out a toast to the IIGA and Mal raises his glass to no one in particular.
Mal loves his wife.
Someone is complaining about the high prices of top shelf gou pi in the dive in which Zoe, Jayne and Mal have decided to ensconce themselves for the moment and Mal laughs, still feeling fairly calm about the world. Even Zoe has relaxed around Mal.
Which is probably not the best plan in the 'verse, but no one on Serenity is known for their plans.
Once again, just like last year and that other year and oh that one too, Mal is the only man walking in a faded brown duster and he doesn't care about the looks he garners because of it. Even he notices they have gotten fewer (though not by much) in the years passing, and that jovial mood keeps him from thinking about wiping any smirks from any unfriendly faces he sees. (Though not by much.)
"Ng Ka Pe," Mal orders nearly needlessly -- it's his fourth and the bartender thinks him uninventive by now. If only he knew that Mal could get something called a root beer float at the end of any known universe if only he just went back to his ship, Mal would think him rutting boring as hell.
There it is --
"A drink to the Alliance! Sticking those shit eating Browncoats back in the dirt where they come runnin' from!"
Mal keeps a smile on his face. Zoe and Jayne are waiting for him to even flinch, but he hasn't yet.
More calls cry out in agreement (though there are a few dissenting ones Mal takes note of) and ten minutes pass before Mal needs a refill. It's old hat by now -- middle of a loud bar, toasts screamed and hollered for damn near miles and some son of a bitch who doesn't know when to shut his trap keeps going about Du Khang and how many dust devils he must've shot dead there when Mal's hand flies to the back of the patron's head, slamming it down nose-first into the bartop.
Mal thinks idly that Mike would disapprove.
Apparently the patron didn't have many friends at the bar; the tender demands twelve bits to pay for the glasses Mal broke, but the same price also gets him a refill. Zoe and Jayne find an empty checkers board to occupy themselves with.
Someone calls out a toast to the IIGA and Mal raises his glass to no one in particular.