(Untitled)

[bad_in_latin]

Thud.

There's a Browncoat-ed man-shape suddenly in the middle of the floor, having arrived there by falling through the ceiling.

"Ow."

Comments

[v_knidh8er]

Above him come the cackles of what could be small children, but in actuality are Loompas. Though, it's truly best for all involved if we all pretend that they're children. There are some things that even creepy children are less creepy than.

Slowly the laughter becomes more and more distant, until finally it's completely muffled.

The hole Malcolm Reynolds fell through is no more.

[bad_in_latin]

There is something very regimented about the process required to regain yourself after falling down.

Open one eye.

Open another.

Okay. Not dead.

Bonus!

[bad_in_latin]

"Too soon." For movement. For sarcasm. For like...breathing.

"Wei, Mike."

[bad_in_latin]

"Yes please."

Mal is okay, just...sore. Very. Very sore.

"Sitting somewhere would be a good thing."

[bad_in_latin]

"Nothin' broken. Just...nnng."

Mal doesn't add I'm getting old to this.

[bad_in_latin]

"This is not adding to my manfulness."

He gives Mike his arm anyway.

[bad_in_latin]

"Where are you taking me and the remainder of my dignity?"

[bad_in_latin]

"That works."

Soft places. Equals a nicer spot than the floor.

"Is Ma here? She should not be here. I don't want to get yelled at."

[bad_in_latin]

"She can do that?"