F: Lying Low
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: They didn't all fight the war to be champions of freedom, always hiding from the victors. For over_look.
Unification day in a bar and Tracey is sat tucked into the corner, his hair longer than he'd like and straggling into his eyes. He has a drink, but he wishes he didn't, because they'll be calling a toast any minute now, and he doesn't want to drink to the Alliance any more than he wants to be caught not drinking to the Alliance -- not now, not yet. Now is not the time to be proud of what you are.
Now is not the time to do anything or be anything in particular. Now is the time to sit quiet in a corner and stay away from the Alliance. Now is the time to lie low and --
The girl's smile is pretty as she walks over to him, pretty and confident, and he budges off to let her slide into the booth next to him. Her smile flickers to grateful briefly and then she looks away, taking a long drink of whatever she's drinking -- Tracey makes a mental note to find out in a minute, so he can get her another later.
"Hi," he says, inanely, and then grins. "I'm Tracey. What's your name?"
"Charlotte."
It's a pretty name. One of his sisters was called Charlotte -- the pretty one, he recalls, though this one is prettier than his sister, and her smile isn't the tired, wan smile of those who've spent too long eking out a living on a planet like St. Albans. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."
"Thank you." She's not even a little flustered at his compliment. She takes another drink, glancing at him appraisingly. "You're a little old to be hiding away in the corner like a kid who shouldn't be here. Not that you look that old, but old enough..."
"Oh, well, I'm just... not in a social mood."
"I'll go, then?"
He reaches out to grab her arm as she moves to leave. "Oh, no, please. I don't mind talking to someone like you."
Like you? He barely knows her. But that doesn't seem to matter as he scrunches back into the booth more invitingly, giving her plenty of space to sit down. And even so, her thigh presses against his, a light, warm press. "Well, that's nice to know."
"So, why are you in here...?"
"A nice girl like myself?"
Her smile is a little tight and he bites his lip, shrugging slightly. "I don't mean any offence..."
"None taken," she replies, after a beat, and then shrugs, her expression turning more helpless -- and yet rebellious, too. "My father is an officer. He was in the war, and he gets very... sentimental about all this Unification Day stuff. You know, how veterans do. He stopped our ship here, so he could drink with all his Alliance buddies for a while. I slipped out."
Tracey throws caution to the wind with a smile, at least. "I'm a veteran. I fought for the Independants, though."
"Yes," Charlotte says, looking him over again and nodding. "You've got that look to you."
He should be worried. He is, after all, laying low. But Tracey ain't above a little boasting to impress a girl, and he stays to tell Charlotte about the battles of Hera, and she smiles at him, her long fingers twining through his after a moment, squeezing lightly. For a moment, he thinks of Mal -- "this war ain't nothing to be proud of and I ever hear you boastin' about how you did this or that just for the attention, I'll..." -- but Mal never did say what he'd do, and they didn't all fight the war to be champions of freedom.
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: They didn't all fight the war to be champions of freedom, always hiding from the victors. For over_look.
Unification day in a bar and Tracey is sat tucked into the corner, his hair longer than he'd like and straggling into his eyes. He has a drink, but he wishes he didn't, because they'll be calling a toast any minute now, and he doesn't want to drink to the Alliance any more than he wants to be caught not drinking to the Alliance -- not now, not yet. Now is not the time to be proud of what you are.
Now is not the time to do anything or be anything in particular. Now is the time to sit quiet in a corner and stay away from the Alliance. Now is the time to lie low and --
The girl's smile is pretty as she walks over to him, pretty and confident, and he budges off to let her slide into the booth next to him. Her smile flickers to grateful briefly and then she looks away, taking a long drink of whatever she's drinking -- Tracey makes a mental note to find out in a minute, so he can get her another later.
"Hi," he says, inanely, and then grins. "I'm Tracey. What's your name?"
"Charlotte."
It's a pretty name. One of his sisters was called Charlotte -- the pretty one, he recalls, though this one is prettier than his sister, and her smile isn't the tired, wan smile of those who've spent too long eking out a living on a planet like St. Albans. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."
"Thank you." She's not even a little flustered at his compliment. She takes another drink, glancing at him appraisingly. "You're a little old to be hiding away in the corner like a kid who shouldn't be here. Not that you look that old, but old enough..."
"Oh, well, I'm just... not in a social mood."
"I'll go, then?"
He reaches out to grab her arm as she moves to leave. "Oh, no, please. I don't mind talking to someone like you."
Like you? He barely knows her. But that doesn't seem to matter as he scrunches back into the booth more invitingly, giving her plenty of space to sit down. And even so, her thigh presses against his, a light, warm press. "Well, that's nice to know."
"So, why are you in here...?"
"A nice girl like myself?"
Her smile is a little tight and he bites his lip, shrugging slightly. "I don't mean any offence..."
"None taken," she replies, after a beat, and then shrugs, her expression turning more helpless -- and yet rebellious, too. "My father is an officer. He was in the war, and he gets very... sentimental about all this Unification Day stuff. You know, how veterans do. He stopped our ship here, so he could drink with all his Alliance buddies for a while. I slipped out."
Tracey throws caution to the wind with a smile, at least. "I'm a veteran. I fought for the Independants, though."
"Yes," Charlotte says, looking him over again and nodding. "You've got that look to you."
He should be worried. He is, after all, laying low. But Tracey ain't above a little boasting to impress a girl, and he stays to tell Charlotte about the battles of Hera, and she smiles at him, her long fingers twining through his after a moment, squeezing lightly. For a moment, he thinks of Mal -- "this war ain't nothing to be proud of and I ever hear you boastin' about how you did this or that just for the attention, I'll..." -- but Mal never did say what he'd do, and they didn't all fight the war to be champions of freedom.