(Untitled)

[bad_in_latin]

"Five years

Comments

[tobeclosetohim]

"I never pegged you for a cupcake man."

The second to last word is pressed on.

[bad_in_latin]

Mal tries hard not to smile. Isn't he supposed to be all grumpy anyhow?

"Been comin' to Milliways for five years today, apparently. Ma 'n the bar thought they'd have their fun.

"'Sides - dessert's okay by me."

[tobeclosetohim]

"Huh. Five years."

The smirk folds toward a smile.
Maybe it catches more toward thoughtful.

Her words replaced themselves on the way out.
She means it without a bite. She doesn't know.

"Is that long here?"

[bad_in_latin]

"Very few folk I've known been here longer."

[52_dropoff]

Charlie is not far off, thumbing through that big book of poetry he's been using of late. He notices a face he's seen before. In a picture frame. In Sallie's house.

"Excuse me...you're Malcolm Reynolds, right?"

[bad_in_latin]

"...Do I get to ask who wants to know first?"

Usually folk who want to know who Mal is don't really want to know for a good reason.

"I'm not sharing the cupcake."

[52_dropoff]

"Wasn't planning to ask for any." Do thieves share, anyway? "My name's Charlie. I'm friends with your mother." Lord, that sounds odd.

[bad_in_latin]

Mal's eyes narrow at this. He always ends up taking more of a heavy view whenever he meets someone claiming relationship with his mother. Call it a habit.

"She ain't ever mentioned you," Mal offers cautiously.

[makesmeatease]

"Where's my cupcake?" Inara frowns as she pushes into the booth next to him, making him scoot over, whether he wants to or not. Hah!

[bad_in_latin]

"Bar likes me better?"

Mal scoots down, bringing the cupcake with him so Inara cannot try and steal it.

[makesmeatease]

Inara laughs. "Oh, right. That's funny, Mal."

[bad_in_latin]

"I'm a ruttin' riot."

And the cupcake slides back to the center of the table.

"Five years."

[trigger_man]

There's a familiar face sitting a short distance down the bar; a familiar face that glances over, squints for a moment, then looks away.

Despite the resemblance, Jack's assuming that that face recognizes isn't Richard Castle. He can't quite see Castle in an outfit like that.

[bad_in_latin]

Meanwhile, Mal knows Jack's face rather rutting well.

But he's different, in a way Mal doesn't - can't really follow.

"Jack?"

[trigger_man]

Jack turns back, squinting slightly again. So either it is Castle, in costume for some reason, or maybe it's Bill Pardy. He hasn't actually met Bill yet, but he'd gotten a preview of the resemblance when everyone had switched bodies.

"Castle?" he asks, tentatively.

[bad_in_latin]

"Uh...no? Somethin' wrong with you?"

[gonna_live]

Someone's leaning over the top of the booth.

"Can I have some?"

Kaylee looks a little sheepish.

[bad_in_latin]

Mal looks far too bright for such a simple question.

"Think so. If you want."

[gonna_live]

"I can't bake," she confides, slipping in to have a seat. "I'm workin' on it. But I'm not doin' all that great."

[bad_in_latin]

"Heard you hired on Ma for some party you threw at the house?"