Act V cont – Whitefall

“Mal, you leave these folks to get ready and come and talk to me.”

“Talk?” Mal looked at Patience, at the air of fragility she had managed to convey to Theo when they said hello and shook hands.

“Humour an old lady.”

“Last time that happened I had to have the bullet removed.”

“Captain, we can cope fine,” Theo said, slapping him on the back. “I'm sure you have business to discuss.”

“Do we?”

“Maybe,” Patience admitted. “And even if we don’t, I have a fine old whisky you might like to try.”

“Hmmn.”

“Go take your ease,” Theo said, grinning. “You are captain, after all.”

“Funny how my crew don’t seem to get that idea,” Mal muttered.

Which was how come he ended up sitting in Patience’s parlour on a chair stuffed with horsehair and covered in some shiny fabric, hoping he wasn't going to slide off and end up on the floor, minus his dignity.

He’d taken in his surroundings at a glance, then looked again in surprise, rapidly revising his view of her. Every single surface was covered in ornaments, and the woman seemed to have a penchant for china dogs. He could feel at least twenty pairs of hard glazed eyes were staring at him pityingly.

Patience herself poured two healthy measure of whisky, handing one to Mal. “Don’t worry. Ain’t poisoned,” she said, seeing the look on his face. “If I wanted to kill you I’d prefer to shoot you.”

“Good to know.” Still, he waited until after she’d taken a mouthful before sipping from his own.

“Course, I could’a put something bad around the rim. Just to make you uncomfortable.” She cackled a little as he stared at the glass. “Didn’t, so don’t get all uppity.”

“Shiny. And just so long as you ain’t planning on getting me drunk, either. I’ll work for you, but my body belongs to another.”

“Don’t like you that much. In fact, damn sure I don’t like you at all.”

“Also good to know.” He slid back on the chair until he rested against the high cushion. “Like to get things on a straight footing.”