Bartending.

[bad_in_latin]

Mal's been watching old Earth-that-Was movies to keep him distracted every once in awhile.

Cars are nifty, thus the theme.

Specials
Speedball
Irish Car Bomb

"Bring it on, folks."

[ooc: I'm sans AIM and distracted by Drive. Tag ahoy.]

Comments

[bad_in_latin]

"Wei," Mal offers rather jovially. "Sure thing."

The beer is poured first and Mal is mixing the shot while he asks, "How's life? Keepin' busy?"

[bad_in_latin]

"Sounds like you're gettin' about then -- most o' the new folk I meet are during the bartending shifts. Did meet a blue lady though -- Zhaan? Apparently she's a plant. Hunh."

[gorgonfondness]

Mia is in a contemplative mood tonight. It's been a real up and down week for her and she could use something.

"Good evening, Mal. A strong cup of tea, please."

She has a small smile. If nothing else, the downs of this week seem to be over, so there is a chance for ups.

"How have you been?"

[bad_in_latin]

It's oolong again that Mal sets out, along with a short smile.

"Fair enough -- nothing too much worth talkin' on. How about yourself?"

[gorgonfondness]

She takes a nice, long drink. By Althena, she needed that.

"Ups and downs. I have had better weeks, but I have also had far worse weeks. Just a bit tired and lately I've been thinking about Ghaleon. My father, sort of."

[bad_in_latin]

Mal doesn't really try and figure out what a sort-of father is.

He probably wouldn't understand it anyhow.

"This is the place to relax, most days. Go swimmin' or some such. Now that there ain't a shark."

[stopped_signal]

Well, guess who comes bellying up to the bar.

"Mal, you sly old dog," Mr. Universe says pleasantly, setting his omnipresent laptop gently on the counter before him. "How's the missus?"

[bad_in_latin]

"Well hello yourself," Mal returns brightly. "'Nara's doin' well. Yellin' at me to shave."

She hasn't succeeded yet. Mal rubs three days of stubble and grins.

"You been up to trouble lately?"

[stopped_signal]

"You do have a hint of twelve o'clock shadow," Mr. Universe informs him, helpfully.

He grins, rueful.

"Trouble is as trouble does. Although lately ... there hasn't been much to do." He shakes his head. "It's a real famine for the posthumous intel community, let me tell you."

[bad_in_latin]

"Don't tell me you ain't made friends with some lovable yet horribly unfortunate creature who requires some o' your more entertaining computerized talents?" Mal jibes.

"Also, you should be nice to your laptop. There're folk what live in there, you know."

[wolflord_andain]

It's entirely possible Galadan has been waiting for an opportunity to talk to Malcolm Reynolds.

It is also highly likely that nothing about his posture suggests this as he approaches the bar, taking a seat.

One corner of his mouth curls in a half-smile as he places his order.

"Ale, if you would?"

[bad_in_latin]

"Certainly," and Mal procures one of the more offbeat 22nd century Earth ones to fill Galadan's order.

"How's things lately? Keepin busy and all?"

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan inclines his head in a nod as he takes the ale.

"Busy, indeed. Your Gabriel Tam is quite the taskmaster, I've had reason to find."

[bad_in_latin]

Mal's eyes open wide, and the dishrag consistantly moving along the bartop halts.

"..."

He starts over.

"...Hunh?"

[waylostandfound]

Because it was inevitable.

There was a politician sitting at the bar with a recent newspaper by him.

Nathan said, "I'll try a Speedball."