A Tricky Business: Chapter 4
Author's Note: Disclaimers and other info on Chapter 1. This is a work in progress. Many thanks to my beta wildannuette. (Wave your mouse over the Chinese for translations.)
The Third Wheel
Mal was coming to the conclusion that maybe that last mug of Ng-Ka-Pei could have been a mistake. He wasn’t too sure of this, although that was probably the Ng-Ka-Pei talking. Wash seemed to have gone a bit too far as well, having snagged the mug Mal had brought for Jayne before the merc had run off for some trim.
Wash still hadn’t let go of the dogbot topic.
“They’re toys, Wash,” said Zoë, exasperated. “Just toys. Like your dinosaurs.”
“Those’re not toys! They’re accurate models for the usage of…” Wash frowned a moment, then pressed on, “of re-enactment of historical events. Or, well, prehistorical, but you get my point.”
“Accurate?” ventured Mal.
Wash shot him an angry look. “Do not mock the ‘saurs. They’re a symbolic representation of our current historical state of affairs.”
“Honey,” said Zoë, taking his empty mug from his hands, “that made no sense.”
“Well, no. Of course not. That’s ‘cause I’ve been drinking. It’s still true, though.”
Mal stared down at his mug. “That it is, Wash.”
“Didactic is what they are,” mumbled Wash, rubbing his eyes. “Jĭdiăn le?”
“Late,” said Zoë. “Though according to the clock on the wall it’s been 3:05 for the past couple of hours.”
Mal glanced at his watch. “Well, we’re not at that time as yet.” He glanced around the bar, now with substantially less customers that when they first came in. “It is getting there though, and I want us to get off this planet early tomorrow.”
“You mean no more jiu?” pouted Wash.
“Definitely,” said his wife, although she leaned into him with a smile. “You’ll need to sleep it off ‘fore we can fly, though.” She kissed the side of his neck.
“Sleep would be nice,” said Wash with a drunk nod, completely missing Zoë’s point. She cupped his face gently and smiled.
“Oh! Sleep.” He wrapped an arm around Zoë with a grin. “You mean sleep with you.”
“Who else would it be with?” She ruffled Wash’s hair and kissed him softly.
Mal let his gaze wander over the bar again. Sometimes, when he was slightly drunk and especially when he was drunk and a witness to the Zoë-and-Wash loving, Mal wondered whether he should join Jayne on his whore-sprees more often.
‘Cause right now the sight of the happy couple wasn’t exactly the most uplifting for the captain. Seeing Zoë right now, it was hard to believe she’d lived through the Unification War. She’d moved on and gotten a crazy and talkative pilot for a husband whereas he still had his browncoat.
“Cap’n?”
Mal grunted in response but kept his eyes fixed on the pool table. One of the balls was flickering again.
“We’re heading back to Serenity,” said Wash. “Coming?”
Mal looked back at the couple, seeing that they’d stood up and their arms about each other. “No, you two go on.”
Zoë lowered her arm from Wash’s shoulder and caught Mal’s eye. “Sir?”
“Go on,” he said, more forcefully that he’d intended. He swirled the contents of his mug. “Got some unfinished business of the drinkin’ nature here.”
“Aye aye, sir,” said Wash, standing to attention and saluting, nearly hitting Zoë as he did so.
“Put that hand down, Wash,” snapped Mal. “You’re no shìbīngshìbīng.”
“I’m a sailor, though,” he said as Zoë tugged him towards the exit. “What’s so wrong with me salutin’?” he asked her.
“Honey,” said Zoë, “you were doing it wrong.”
Mal moved his mug aside and rested his elbows on the table, trying to avoid the liquor spills. He sat half an hour longer, idly listening to the conversation between three men a few tables away. Apparently, one of them had a ship-load of fertilizer and no one to sell it off to.
Once Mal was sure he’d given Zoë and Wash a good enough head-start, he stood and downed the last of his drink. He took his coat from the chair and walked towards the door, putting the coat on as he walked. He glanced at the posters and adds on the walls, keeping an eye out for any warrants. Mal paused at the door to wrap the coat about himself to fight off the night chill. Resting one hand casually on the butt of his gun, Mal set off towards the docks.
“Ruttin’ geisha dolls all over again.”
Jĭdiăn le? - What time is it?
jiu - alcohol
shìbīng - soldier
The Third Wheel
Mal was coming to the conclusion that maybe that last mug of Ng-Ka-Pei could have been a mistake. He wasn’t too sure of this, although that was probably the Ng-Ka-Pei talking. Wash seemed to have gone a bit too far as well, having snagged the mug Mal had brought for Jayne before the merc had run off for some trim.
Wash still hadn’t let go of the dogbot topic.
“They’re toys, Wash,” said Zoë, exasperated. “Just toys. Like your dinosaurs.”
“Those’re not toys! They’re accurate models for the usage of…” Wash frowned a moment, then pressed on, “of re-enactment of historical events. Or, well, prehistorical, but you get my point.”
“Accurate?” ventured Mal.
Wash shot him an angry look. “Do not mock the ‘saurs. They’re a symbolic representation of our current historical state of affairs.”
“Honey,” said Zoë, taking his empty mug from his hands, “that made no sense.”
“Well, no. Of course not. That’s ‘cause I’ve been drinking. It’s still true, though.”
Mal stared down at his mug. “That it is, Wash.”
“Didactic is what they are,” mumbled Wash, rubbing his eyes. “Jĭdiăn le?”
“Late,” said Zoë. “Though according to the clock on the wall it’s been 3:05 for the past couple of hours.”
Mal glanced at his watch. “Well, we’re not at that time as yet.” He glanced around the bar, now with substantially less customers that when they first came in. “It is getting there though, and I want us to get off this planet early tomorrow.”
“You mean no more jiu?” pouted Wash.
“Definitely,” said his wife, although she leaned into him with a smile. “You’ll need to sleep it off ‘fore we can fly, though.” She kissed the side of his neck.
“Sleep would be nice,” said Wash with a drunk nod, completely missing Zoë’s point. She cupped his face gently and smiled.
“Oh! Sleep.” He wrapped an arm around Zoë with a grin. “You mean sleep with you.”
“Who else would it be with?” She ruffled Wash’s hair and kissed him softly.
Mal let his gaze wander over the bar again. Sometimes, when he was slightly drunk and especially when he was drunk and a witness to the Zoë-and-Wash loving, Mal wondered whether he should join Jayne on his whore-sprees more often.
‘Cause right now the sight of the happy couple wasn’t exactly the most uplifting for the captain. Seeing Zoë right now, it was hard to believe she’d lived through the Unification War. She’d moved on and gotten a crazy and talkative pilot for a husband whereas he still had his browncoat.
“Cap’n?”
Mal grunted in response but kept his eyes fixed on the pool table. One of the balls was flickering again.
“We’re heading back to Serenity,” said Wash. “Coming?”
Mal looked back at the couple, seeing that they’d stood up and their arms about each other. “No, you two go on.”
Zoë lowered her arm from Wash’s shoulder and caught Mal’s eye. “Sir?”
“Go on,” he said, more forcefully that he’d intended. He swirled the contents of his mug. “Got some unfinished business of the drinkin’ nature here.”
“Aye aye, sir,” said Wash, standing to attention and saluting, nearly hitting Zoë as he did so.
“Put that hand down, Wash,” snapped Mal. “You’re no shìbīngshìbīng.”
“I’m a sailor, though,” he said as Zoë tugged him towards the exit. “What’s so wrong with me salutin’?” he asked her.
“Honey,” said Zoë, “you were doing it wrong.”
Mal moved his mug aside and rested his elbows on the table, trying to avoid the liquor spills. He sat half an hour longer, idly listening to the conversation between three men a few tables away. Apparently, one of them had a ship-load of fertilizer and no one to sell it off to.
Once Mal was sure he’d given Zoë and Wash a good enough head-start, he stood and downed the last of his drink. He took his coat from the chair and walked towards the door, putting the coat on as he walked. He glanced at the posters and adds on the walls, keeping an eye out for any warrants. Mal paused at the door to wrap the coat about himself to fight off the night chill. Resting one hand casually on the butt of his gun, Mal set off towards the docks.
“Ruttin’ geisha dolls all over again.”
Jĭdiăn le? - What time is it?
jiu - alcohol
shìbīng - soldier