Mal-Wash, kinda OOM.

[badinlatin]

Mal loves his flask.

A lot.

It's so pretty, all inscribed with random patterns - intricate ones - of dents and scrapes, scuff marks and chips. And reflecting under the scant light of the stable lamps, the discolored silver throws of interesting oil-slick patterns.

For such things are interesting when it's your second flask full. And there's a bottle by your side you haven't touched yet.

Mal is grouchy.

Comments

[badinlatin]

Mal's wrist resumes position, but on the opposite shoulder.

"Would you pull over? Pull over right now! Jesus Christ Almighty I'll --"

[flybywash]

More swatting ensues.

"Fine. Fine! You wanna fly?" Wash throws up both his arms, alcohol sloshing over the rim of his glass. "FUCKIN' FLY!"

Determined, as he takes another sip, "And then I'd get up an' go to my bunk. See what he does then."

[badinlatin]

Mal doesn't even notice the splashed liquor falling on his arm.

He leans back with a smug grin on his face.

"He wouldn't have one gorram clue, Wash. You show 'im."

[flybywash]

"Absolutely. 'S your ship. But. But my bridge. Yeah?"

Equally smug.

[badinlatin]

"Hell yes. I mean, I could fly 'er, but not near as well as you get that bird to listen to ya. Almost jealous, actually."

Drunken Reveal Number One.

[flybywash]

He shakes his head. "No no no, she ain't listenin' to me, I'm listenin' to her. 'S just...." More vague gestures. "Knowing. Feelin' it."

A sudden, bright grin, full of pride. "Even River can't hear her, y'know that?"

[badinlatin]

Mal has since picked up the bottle, drinking straight from it, faintly smiling.

"No I didn't, Wash. 'S nice."

[flybywash]

"Yeah. Yeah."

Wash turns a thoughtful look to the contents of his glass, sobering a little.

"Scared the guĭ outta me when I came back an' you said she was flyin'. Thought I was gonna lose my job."

[badinlatin]

Mal shakes his head quickly. "Sorry y'ever got the notion o' that from me, man. Weren't even somethin' I thought o'."

Cough.

"The first time I thought on replacin' ya was the day 'fore I came back into the bar. I couldn't be flyin' the boat all the time and neither could River.

"And when I knew you were alive, well - weren't no thoughts on it anymore."

[flybywash]

Wash looks up, eyes bright.

"'Cause 'm not leaving until Zoe does," he says, earnest. "And. And she's not gonna leave, either, s'long as you're there."

[badinlatin]

Mal smiles sincerely for the first time all night.

"Xiexie, Wash. That's...that's real nice o' you to say. Thanks."

Yup. New port extender.

[flybywash]

"Say it 'cause it's true."

Wash finishes off the rest of his current glass -- then tilts his head, suddenly, and pokes his right leg a few times.

"Hey." It sounds like he's just had a grand epiphany. "My leg's not hurting."

[badinlatin]

With one finger pointing out the next great epiphany, "This could be because o' the booze."

Yes.

[flybywash]

"...Hey, yeah."

He examines his empty glass.

Solemn, taking care to enunciate, "This was a good idea. You have lots've good ideas. Thanks."

[badinlatin]

"Damn straight I do."

Pause. He may not be as inebriated as Wash, but he's close.

"I'll think o' examples once I...y'know, think."

[flybywash]

He nods, several times. "Thinking's good too."

With deliberate care, he puts down his glass.

[badinlatin]

Mal rolls his eyes at the assertion.

"Not really. But necessary. Like, um...

"We gonna be able to get back to the bar? 'S gorram cold."

[flybywash]

Wash shudders. "I don't wanna." Then, resigned, after he mulls it over for a few more seconds, "Zoe'll get worried. But."

A mournful look at the crutches.

"'M drunk."

[badinlatin]

"Yup. Me too. Ain't near you yet though, so we should be alright with it."

Mal stands. A bit wobbly, but he stands.

"Can you get up?"

[flybywash]

"You were drinking b'fore I even came in," he protests.

But he plants both hands on the cot, sets his good foot firmly, and hefts himself up.

Frantic flailing to grab Mal's shoulder soon follows. He has enough trouble balancing properly without his crutches when he's stone-cold sober.

[badinlatin]

Mal attempts bracing himself to keep Wash vertical, but both Wash and Mal end up sitting back down on the cot.

"Well. That didn't work."

[flybywash]

"Crutches," Wash decides. "'S why I've got 'em."

He makes a grab for them.

The next attempt to stand goes...about the same, but this time, Wash manages to splay the crutches wide enough apart to keep himself upright.

"There!"

He looks far too proud of himself right now.

[badinlatin]

Mal stands a bit easier as well, once Wash is upright.

He leaves the bottle, now down to its dregs, sitting next to the cot.

"Off we go, then."

[flybywash]

And you don't want to know how long it takes them to get back to the bar like this.

Really.

It's not like they're going to know how long it took in this state, either.