InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Why am I always Lois Lane?"

Malcolm "Mal" Reynolds (i_wearbrown) wrote in we_coexist,
@ 2008-04-07 15:55:00

Entry tags:

georgia lass, malcolm reynolds, zz:status complete

Close enough in Mandarin for "What the hell..." [ Mal + George ]
Face down in his pillow, when Malcolm Reynolds shifted his legs to the side he expected them to drape over the edge of his bunk. But they only found the comfort and support of more mattress. That would go on record as the first thing he noticed was wrong. Next was the pillow. It was big and soft and not his. Pushing himself up with his forearms, Mal inhaled sharply as his sleepy mind raced to sort things out.

The room he was in was softly illuminated by the sun pouring in through the windows. Big bed, windows -- this wasn't a prison by any definition he knew. Looking around, this place looked like someone's personal quarters more than a cell. Glancing down, he found that he was still dressed in his own attire. Patting down his side, there was a moment of anger mixed with dread as he found his gun missing. But as he moved to get up, he saw his holster as well as his jacket slung over a nearby chair. Mal didn't waste any time replacing that particular belonging to his person.

"Zhe shi shen me?" Leaving the bedroom, weapon in hand, back pressed to the wall -- Mal crept up to the next corner and peeked around it carefully before stepping out into what looked like some empty parlor. Gun still drawn, he was starting to believe his earlier notion that this was just someone's apartment. But it was so sterile, so empty, it was if it had no resident to speak of. Mal would go on to check the adjoining rooms, which turned out to be nothing more than a bathroom and an obscenely large closet only to turn up empty handed. Ending up back in the living room/parlor, he saddled up next to the window, looking out onto an unfamiliar cityscape. Where was this place? Where were the others? Where was Serenity?

The clap of a door opening and closing from the other side of the wall drew his attention to what would turn out to be the front door to the apartment. Firearm still in hand, he approached the door with caution. The door creaked open after Mal twisted the knob and he stood still -- listening.

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i_avoidlife
2008-04-10 07:56 pm UTC (link)

"George."

Georgia Lass couldn't very well pass for Millie anymore, so giving out her alias seemed like a bad idea. She would have to come up with a new name. It made her feel a little down. George liked Millie. And she even missed her old boss at Happy Times. Funny how those feelings of loss never really go away, even for the undead.

She thought about asking for his name, but then she would miss the gangster-pirate-spaceman and didn't like the idea of recognizing it if it ever came up on a post-it note.

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i_wearbrown
2008-04-11 05:32 am UTC (link)

Mal had that previously mentioned, six-foot-something, heavily armed reason to be rather used to creative uses of usually gender specific names. So he didn't flinch when it came to remembering this girl's name as George.

"Well, I appreciate you bein' of the helpful type.." Which was a seemingly difficult task considering moments ago he'd held a gun on her. Either she was a great liar of Saffron-like proportions, or she truly didn't intend him any harm. "Don't worry 'bout losing your bunk here. It's all yours, I got no plans on coming back. Ain't the company.. this just isn't my place."

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i_avoidlife
2008-04-11 05:47 am UTC (link)

George decided not to tell him that the keys to the place were likely in his pocket. That his name could very well be written on the buzzer below with the room number next to it. She didn't warn him that the streets moved, or how to best get around town.

She decided to pawn that job off on someone else. Really it was for the best.

"Good luck," she said flatly. It sounded more like an awkward attempt at sincerity than apathy, but could still easily be mistaken for the later. One might start to get the impression that George wasn't the type to get real uppity about having a gun trained on her, or anything else for that matter. Either that or her voice was incapable of anything besides near monotone.

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