three ☀ video / optional action

[deshabille]

Who: Mal
Broadcast: Fleetwide!
Action: On the Caprine if anyone desires it! I'm flexible.
When: 6/20.

[As in her first broadcast, Mal can be found tinkering around in the engine room, elbows-deep in something interesting and greasy. This time, though, she seems pensive, deep in thought, perhaps about Deep Subjects and Philosophies.]

[She is, in fact, thinking about something entirely different.]

[When she speaks, it's in tones of airy contemplation, meant to disguise the fact that part of her thinks this is a terrible idea.]

Here is an interesting thing: vampires, for all their reputation for seduction, really aren't that good at it, at least where I come from. When you're always hungry, you mostly rely on people leaving windows open at the right time and then being a bit woozy from blood loss. For the really old ones, the ones who can barely stand without crumbling to dust and really hate sunshine, that's the only way they can eat, and if they tried to seduce anyone their arm would probably fall off.

[She twists at a mysterious innard of the ship with a wrench, tongue in her cheek.]

We've had enough excitement for a while, I think, so why not something boring instead: tell me about romance in your world. Describe the sorts of flowers you like to kill for love. Rate yourself on a scale of one to ten, complete dunce to Casanunda, if you like.

Actually, everyone should have to do that. That's compulsory. I will genteelly admit that I am a nine. [Liar.]

Comments

[poetontheinside]

[Hey, he doesn't know.]

Alright, Jesus, come to the Windrose and do it there or I'll come over to your place.

[deshabille]

. . . Right. Minute.

[She'll just be grabbing a shuttle, brb.]

[poetontheinside]

[He's gonna be waiting for her in the cargo bay, playing with the toothpick in his mouth and tapping his feet like it took so long.]

[deshabille]

[When she slips into the cargo bay, ruffling her hair back into some kind of order, she catches sight of Ray and rolls her eyes as she jogs towards him.]

It's been five minutes. Are you that desperate for gossip?

[poetontheinside]

I get really bored, alright? [He rolls his eyes, but he jerks his head, leading them to what passes for a kitchen.]

[deshabille]

Obviously.

[She's got a small nest of nerves in her stomach, but she follows him anyway, tucking her thumbs into her belt loops.]

Got any coffee?

[poetontheinside]

Uh... [He ducks into what passes for a kitchen, looks underneath the sink, climbs up on the counter, and finally comes up with some instant stuff. He holds it up for her, shrugs.]

It tastes like shit, but it's coffee.

[deshabille]

[She takes it from his hands, turns it over, sniffs it. Deems it acceptable and hands it back.]

Good enough. I don't really need it anymore, but. Habits.

[Folding herself into a chair by the small table, she rests her chin on her hand, watching him.]

[poetontheinside]

I usually put some smarties in, back home, but the girls don't let me waste chocolate on my coffee. [Which means his coffee tastes even shittier, but he'll still take it. He goes about making the coffee, humming under his breath, moving around the kitchen.

When he's done he puts a cup in front of her, then plops down himself.]

Alright. What's the story, morning glory?

[deshabille]

[She wrinkles her nose at that. She's a coffee purist; she drinks it black and absolutely refuses to consider it any other way. But he's making her coffee, so she keeps her mouth shut, curling her fingers around the mug when he places it in front of her with a nod of thanks.]

[For a moment she just fiddles with the handle. Then:]

I really did get punched, but it was mostly my fault, I think. Some people don't take to unexpected kisses.

[poetontheinside]

[Oh, Mal. He cannot describe the satisfaction he feels right now. He hopes his grin illustrates it-- it's slow and wide and incredibly pleased, and he leans forward on his arms.]

And it was still a good punch, huh?

[deshabille]

[She shoots him a Look at that grin, but she's smiling a little, too. It's a good memory, and it's surprisingly satisfying to share it.]

Yes. It was worth it.

. . . Do you know Cassandra? The Seeker.

[poetontheinside]

[At that he leans even further forward, wide-eyed and surprised.]

You kissed Cassandra? Fucking-- [He gestures, illustrating something tall and formidable] that Cassandra?

[deshabille]

[Her eyes glint with pleasure at having taken him by surprise. She nods, resting her chin on her hand.]

That Cassandra. [She regrets nothing.] Apparently that's not the way she does things, so I wouldn't advise it unless you don't mind worse bruising than I got.

[Also Mal might hit you, too. She's not exactly the jealous type, but they have an understanding now, sort of.]

[poetontheinside]

I ain't going anywhere near that, don't worry.

[Not his type, exactly. Too intimidating, and not in a fun way like Fraser gets.]

You still seem pretty happy. You gonna try it again?

[deshabille]

[She cocks her head at that - you seem pretty happy. She isn't one to wallow in emotion even at the worst of times, but, yes: she is happy. Very much so.]

I am. [To both - she is happy, she is going to try it again.] With a little more warning this time, perhaps.

[Or maybe not. She likes playing with fire some, too.]

[poetontheinside]

[He settles into his chair a little better and grins- he can't help it, he's a sap. Seeing tough, cocky Mal like this is kinda cool.]

Only perhaps, huh?

[deshabille]

Well. I don't want to make her uncomfortable.

[She cares about Cassandra, quite a bit - she isn't nearly as detached and cool as she'd like to act. But she isn't entirely comfortable herself with being open and honest about what she's feeling, so. It's a bit of a toss-up.]