Gabriel-Mal, pool table.

[badinlatin]

One of the many perks of Milliways is that the majority of the decor and bar accoutrements appear to be from a time predominantly pre-hologram.

Which means many things, of course, but one of those things is a solid set of billiard balls on a table with actual felt that has some texture still to it no matter how many times the table is used.

Mal's playing some solo form of nine-ball, every once in awhile waving down a waitrat for a refill.

Comments

[gabriel_tam]

It's the sharp distinctive 'crack' of the cue sending the balls careening into each other that first catches his attention when he walks through the door.

Gabriel Tam stops where he is and watches Reynolds for a moment, his eyebrows rising, then walks over.

"Nĭ hăo."

[badinlatin]

"Wèi."

Mal sinks the two-ball but cheats the three just shy of the far corner pocket and he grunts his heavy disapproval.

"Ain't seen you for some time. You playing nice?"

[gabriel_tam]

"I suppose. No more or less than usual, at least."

He puts his hands in his pockets and looks at the results of that shot with amused interest.

"I might well ask the same of you."

[badinlatin]

"Only if you want to know the answer," Which isn't a volunteered answer at all, until --

"Regrouping a bit at the moment. Nothing terribly adventurous on the horizon."

[gabriel_tam]

"For now," Gabriel observes, with dry humor.

A short pause.

"Regrouping." It's not a question, not quite, but the invitation for Mal to elaborate is clear all the same.

[badinlatin]

"Not every day I have to figure out moving on without my mechanic and my medic."

[gabriel_tam]

"Ah."

He'd suspected as much, to be honest. Gabriel clears his throat and moves around the table to the rack of pool cues, absently examining the nearest one.

"Yes, I'd think that would be rather the change to become accustomed to."

[badinlatin]

"Certainly is different."

It's hard to concentrate on shooting when having a conversation, so Mal hasn't taken another shot yet.

He's...watching Gabriel fiddle with the cues with growing suspicion.

"You goin' to try and play?"

[gabriel_tam]

He turns his head to look at Mal. The scar along his throat and jaw pulls his grin sideways, but the quick, easy nature of it is clear and unmistakable.

"Is that an invitation?"

[badinlatin]

Mal shrugs. He doesn't have the enthusiasm to retort a quick "Does it need to be?"

He knows it does - they'll never be that easy with each other.

(Gabriel sounds a lot like Simon.)

Mal just picks the balls out of the return and looks around to wherever the hell he stashed the frame.

[gabriel_tam]

While Mal's getting the table ready, Gabriel takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of a nearby chair. He rolls up his sleeves a couple of turns each, then reaches for the nearest cue.

He tests a couple of them in succession before he finds one he likes. Cue in hand, Gabriel moves around the edge of the table.

"It's been a while since I've done this," he remarks.

[badinlatin]

A noncommittal sort of noise. (He can't decide whether or not to believe him - that is the perfect line Mal would use if trying to hook a mark on a game.)

Instead: "'S only in Milliways that I've really been able to play with actual solid balls. Just get the holo-stuff in my normal halls."

[gabriel_tam]

"A lot of things might be described as 'only in Milliways,'" Gabriel says, wryly. "It's quite the place."

[badinlatin]

Mal pulls the frame away and tucks it under the table on its proper hook.

Pointedly: "It works out as a boon to most people. Your break."

[gabriel_tam]

Gabriel slants a sideways look at Mal. "I didn't say it wasn't."

He steps to the end of the table, lines up the cue and sights along it, and then --

--CRACK--

The balls scatter widely across the felt, although none of them drop. He nods, and steps back.

"Your shot."

[badinlatin]

The next shot is too forceful; although he pockets the one, the five that could have followed banks wildly to one side.

"You heard from them?"

[gabriel_tam]

"Not for a while."

Gabriel sinks his next shot, then lines up a second. Without looking up from the table, he adds,

"I'm hoping to be able to visit when I reach Praxed."

The second shot goes askew, and he makes an irritated noise.

"I should know better than to shoot and talk at the same time."

[badinlatin]

Still after that three. Mal doesn't have much of a shot to take so he's willing to take a risk on banking to a center pocket.

When he takes it and the three smacks against the unruly five from earlier to sink it into a near corner, Mal looks far too pleased with himself to comment on Gabriel's information for a minute.

"They let me know they settled in well."

Which...appears to be the limit of the interaction Mal's put forth with them just yet.

[gabriel_tam]

"Nicely done," Gabriel says, looking at the table. "And I'm glad to hear it."

A pause, and he's still looking at the table layout when he adds, far too casually,

"And River?"

[badinlatin]

"Mostly threatening to rub soup in my hair."

Blink. "Duibuqi. Old joke. She's doing good."

[gabriel_tam]

He glances up at Mal, and smiles.

"Good."

[badinlatin]

Mal just makes a face at him. There's not all that much effort put into it.

"Nice to know my hair is that bad. Take your shot."

[gabriel_tam]

"If you're that worried about it, I'm sure I could recommend someone," he says without missing a beat, completely deadpan.

Without waiting for an answer, Gabriel sets his cue and shoots in a single smooth motion. The three drops; the six that it contacts on the way ricochets off a bank and strikes the seven, sending it into a corner pocket as well.

"That's more like it."

[badinlatin]

Mal manages a sliver of hope in his expression when he sees the four hiding behind the nine ball when Gabriel moves around the table to look for his next target.

"I'm not. I'd hate for River to not have something to complain at me about."

[gabriel_tam]

"I'm sure she'd find something."

He frowns over the angle for a few seconds, then shrugs and makes the shot. It's off just enough to send the nine wobbling sideways before striking the four, and Gabriel steps back and gives Mal a wry smile.

"Yours, I believe."