Re: dock: atticus and mal
Mal did, indeed, take himself seriously. It was one of the traits that got him into trouble most often, second only to his tendency to come to judgement quickly and his stubbornness. A certain lack of moral fiber didn't really help either of those things. He wanted to do right, but it had taken a massive mistake to teach him that the end didn't justify the means, especially when the end was as selfish a goal as revenge.
All that thought just made him rub at his eyes a little, and he tried to dismiss the sin of introspection with a blink. "I wonder if that sort of activity is radioactive," he said, turn the puzzle again, holding it in one hand, taking a measure of its weight. "Does it have a half-life? That crash was years ago. How long before the effects fade away? If they last into the distant future, our ancestors will have a very strange time understanding them. I hope it doesn't." He surfaced the thought, and looked to Atticus. "I can't imagine much worse than a fate like that."
"Absolutely." The thought of some classic thinking rock cheered him a little, and he watched as Atticus messed with the cassette. That was two people, now, that he'd met in Repose who preferred tapes to more recent media. "Tapes," he said, with fond scorn. Old school, but in an adorable way. Atticus clearly wasn't a hipster about it.
Mal listened for a moment, then turned his lips down in a thoughtful, appreciative way. "Never heard it. It's good." He liked the synths, anyway. To Sinead, "Who's that? He's not weighted evenly, that's what he's telling me. One side is heavier than the other. I'd put money that if we spun him like a top, he'd fall over."