gonna_live | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's a little late, and there's one last place that Kaylee will look for Mal before she gives up and assumes he's in with Inara.

Her boots clang dully on the stairs up to the bridge.

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Snort, chin still precariously in one hand.

"Still. We got time."

You promise? she almost asks, but catches herself.

Because that one's not fair to ask.

Instead she turns back toward the black, slumping back in the chair. "Okay." Soft, and tired. "I just... I'm doin' the right thing, but that don't mean I feel good about it."

"That's the thing about command decisions." Mal doesn't elaborate.

"You stayin' up? It's later."

Kaylee eyes him. "Maybe. Why?"

"Hmm? No reason particular."

There's no real indication of a subject change or repressed topic, any desire to avoid expressing a conscious thought.

Mal swivels back and leans forward over the control panels accessible to the pilot's chair, reaching up to three switches which get flipped in an incomprehensible order.

The resulting effect is music: rigged to be sure from some set of speakers Mal probably won in a bet. They sound awful. Mal is smirking.

"...you tryin' to drive me out?"

Mal is shocked.

"Thought I would take advantage of my newfound schooling."

"I didn't mean you should use it for nefarious purposes." Kaylee swivels a little in her chair. "Wash is gonna flip his lid in the morning."

"I could turn the volume up, watch it happen now."

The prospect is amusing, but Mal doesn't move.

"And then you'd have Zoe on you too 'cause Naomi would wake up and holler." Matter of fact. "You really want that?"

"Naomi would forgive me."

Or not.

A thumb towards one of the lockers behind Mal to the right. "If you want to jack with my perfectly legitimate musical selection."

The jacking, it appears, will commence shortly, judging by how fast Kaylee's out of that chair.

Instead: some kind of song about stars.

Kaylee settles back in her chair. "Much better."

Mal exaggerates a very nasal snore. If he had popcorn, he'd throw it.

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