Malcolm Beauregard Reynolds

Caspian is around...Mal thinks, anyway. The thought is enough - and a filled flask that is easily tucked away - for Mal to head out to the stables and not just to the paddock where some of the horses were out for the morning. A dry swallow, and the door is slid open to the stable, and the interior of the building is traversed quickly - Tequila's tack has even been cleaned, thanks probably to a meticulous stablemaster.

"Sorry I got...lazy on you, Halo," Mal says absently. Tequila does not forgive Mal until the carrots come into view.

Saddle pad, saddle and bridle and reins are fetched and harnessed quickly, and Mal walks his horse to a flat area just in front of the paddock gate. He can't decide if he wants to ride for speed or tricks today, and Tequila isn't helping - antsy for action, the horse gives a loud snort.

Of course, that may be in recognition of hearing someone else in the vicinity.