Here's the thing about a Firefly: all of those wacky little twists, turns, and nooks in the interior are good -- no, great -- for freelance transport
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Wash may recognize this guy. Bob doesn't really recognize him, though. After all, they only met once, and that was three months ago, and Bob was frazzled and sleep-deprived at the time.
Plus, all these beige-ish people tend to look alike if he's not paying attention.
The blueprints get the Guardian's attention, though. "What are you working on?" he asks, leaning over Wash's shoulder to get a look.
"Wei -- Bob, right?" He gestures to the blueprints with his stylus. "It's just some disturbingly long overdue babyproofing we gotta do on the ship, picking out the trouble spots so we don't end up with kids falling off the catwalks."
Said kid is staring openmouthed at Bob. He's blue. That is AWESOME.
"Shi a, Wash." He grins, bouncing Naomi a bit as he looks down at her; she breaks into a smile that's almost identical to her dad's. "And this is Naomi. She's just over nine months."
Bob isn't bad with kids, by any means, but he's not wonderful with them either. And the thought of raising a child of his own is still pretty scary to him.
So it's with more than a little hesitation that Bob reaches out toward Naomi. "Can I...?" he asks of her father.
Wash has seen enough these past nine months to get past the 'my daughter is made of glass that'll break if I look at her funny' stage, moreso since the crawling started and she began to pick up a few occasional scrapes and bruises.
But he's still very, very careful as he shifts Naomi out of his arms and into Bob's, holding onto her hand even after she's safely there.
Once he's sure she's not going to burst into tears because a BIG BLUE STRANGER IS HOLDING HER DADDY MAKE IT STOP, he lets go.
He's holding a baby. A baby User, at that, but for the moment that's kind of secondary to the fact that he's holding a baby for the first time since... well, ever, as far as he can remember.
A little person, still new and discovering the world.
"Hi there," he whispers as he reaches up to gently ruffle Naomi's hair.
It really is fascinating. Nobody's skin looks like this. Or feels like this! It's so cool!
And eventually, Naomi's thoughts wander in the same direction as most kids under the age of one: Okay, sure, yeah, this is great, but how does it taste?
You're about to get your fingers pulled into her mouth, Bob.
Plus, all these beige-ish people tend to look alike if he's not paying attention.
The blueprints get the Guardian's attention, though. "What are you working on?" he asks, leaning over Wash's shoulder to get a look.
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"Wei -- Bob, right?" He gestures to the blueprints with his stylus. "It's just some disturbingly long overdue babyproofing we gotta do on the ship, picking out the trouble spots so we don't end up with kids falling off the catwalks."
Said kid is staring openmouthed at Bob. He's blue. That is AWESOME.
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He offers said kid a little wave, accompanied by a goofy grin.
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A beat.
"Does she talk yet? Sorry, I don't know anything about human life cycles."
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"Ah bah," Naomi chimes in as she twists her head back to look up at Wash.
"Can do that pretty well," he finishes. "Actual words're probably gonna start showing up in another two or three months."
Naomi looks back at Bob and repeats, "Bahbahbah!"
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So it's with more than a little hesitation that Bob reaches out toward Naomi. "Can I...?" he asks of her father.
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There's a little bit of hesitation on Wash's end, too, but it passes quickly enough. "Sure, you wanna sit to make it easier?"
He scootches sideways along the booth bench.
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But he's still very, very careful as he shifts Naomi out of his arms and into Bob's, holding onto her hand even after she's safely there.
Once he's sure she's not going to burst into tears because a BIG BLUE STRANGER IS HOLDING HER DADDY MAKE IT STOP, he lets go.
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A little person, still new and discovering the world.
"Hi there," he whispers as he reaches up to gently ruffle Naomi's hair.
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Wash just watches the two of them, his smile small and a little private.
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And eventually, Naomi's thoughts wander in the same direction as most kids under the age of one: Okay, sure, yeah, this is great, but how does it taste?
You're about to get your fingers pulled into her mouth, Bob.
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"Hey, what are you--ow!"
Now he knows.
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He's already starting to reach for her, wincing a bit in sympathy.
"Naomi, no, people are not for chewing."
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