GR RP "Adventures in Gunrunning" ACT 21

POSTED BY: CapnRahn
UPDATED: Thursday, October 14, 2004 13:08
VIEWED: 20054
PAGE 6 of 10

Damon's turn:
LOCATION - CARGO BAY

Little brother?

Certainly the nicest nickname he's been given- Rowan has been calling him that off and on too in Chinese.

Damon watches as Merz turns away, deliberately avoiding him for whatever reason- which, to him, implies that there is a deeper meaning to the use than just a buddy-buddy nickname. Questions begin bubbling to the surface of his mind but he pushes them aside- family is neither a safe or a necessary topic to talk about.

Damon follows Merz back to their pile of coiled cords and begins unraveling one. As the seconds drag on, he decides this silence needs to be broken.

"So how many of these are we going to make? Could we braid three braids or...?"




I'm not broken, in my dream I win...

NOTIFY: Y  | REPLY  | REPLY WITH QUOTE  | PERMALINK  | TOP  | HOME

LOCATION - MALs DORM
As ...

Mal pauses a moment
"It'd be best if the crew loosen up a tad before the run tomorrow ... check with Kaylee and tell her to "open up the cabinet". She has got a mighty fine inter-engine brandy that should be ready to uncask. Let 'em have fun t'nite."

From the bunk, Book looks over his steepled fingers at Mal. Both Book's eyebrows slowly climb towards his hairline, as if Book is unsatisfied with Mal's evasion. Meeting Book's eyes, Mal remains resolute. His mind made up, he slaps his thighs and stands up.

MAL
Not only as if convincing Book, but himself as well.
"Yep, fun is what we need about now." ...he stops a moment then adds with a wry grin ... "Well, leastwise it will be, after work is done."

EOM

"Remember, there is only ONE absolute - There ARE NO absolutes!!!"

NOTIFY: N  | REPLY  | REPLY WITH QUOTE  | PERMALINK  | TOP  | HOME

Rowan’s Move
LOCATION: BRIDGE

Seeing the girl's electric smile fade somewhat, Rowan becomes aware that not all is as well as it might seem on the surface. Complicated dynamics, she figures - small ship, small crew. They usually go one of two ways; either they hate each other and certain individuals find themselves tossed into the black for just breathing, or they grow close during long tedious hours in space, becoming more like a family than business associates. Rowan has only seen the former version once, and managed to survive it by getting on the executive officer's really good side right before the mutiny. Serenity is showing itself to be by far the latter dynamic, cranky frustrated captain or not.

Only one thing could dim Kaylee's thousand-watt smile, or that is to say, one person. Question is, which crew member is she holding in her heart?

KAYLEE: Go ahead ROWAN, do your stuff.

Rowan nods at the permission given and moves to drop down into the gunner's chair, putting her feet up on the console as she brings up the interface to Serenity on her source pad.

EOM

OOC: Shorty-post!

We have art so as not to die of truth ~ Neitzsche
http://www.mnartists.org/artistHome.do?rid=7922

NOTIFY: Y  | REPLY  | REPLY WITH QUOTE  | PERMALINK  | TOP  | HOME

JAYNE'S move
LOCATION – CARGO BAY

DAMON
"So how many of these are we going to make? Could we braid three braids or...?"

JAYNE
"Shee-oot, ya really found some, didn'tcha? And yer braidin' em up like ya been doing girls' hair fer years." Jayne's obviously not making too fine a point about his sarcasm. He walks towards Merz and Damon with slow, tired strides. "Yer mama'd be proud."

He stops at the bungee braid and a curious expression crosses his face. Jayne sniffs twice at the air with flaring nostrels. Is that...? Nah, must just be the rubber. He stoops down and pokes in with his finger, then squeezes it in his hand, getting a sense for its structure and strength.

NOTIFY: N  | REPLY  | REPLY WITH QUOTE  | PERMALINK  | TOP  | HOME

Damon’s turn:
LOCATION - CARGO BAY or CATWALKS

JAYNE
"Shee-oot, ya really found some, didn'tcha? And yer braidin' em up like ya been doing girls' hair fer years." Jayne's obviously not making too fine a point about his sarcasm.

Damon is squatting in front of the pile of cords, pulling an end free one arm length at a time. He can think of a few replies- most of which have to do with make-up- but he decides not to say anything and smiles at his own unsaid comment.

Jayne walks towards Merz and Damon with slow, tired strides. "Yer mama'd be proud."

Damon’s gaze breaks from his work, slipping to some distant point below the metal grate under his feet. The smile has already faded.

Quote:

---

Damon awoke to the sound of the phone ringing and found a wall staring him in the face. He started to turn over and immediately regretted it, as pain shot through his small, broken body from seemingly everywhere at once, hitting him like a bucket of ice water. He relaxed and lay there until the sharp pains melted into one dull ache, but even then it was difficult to breathe without the tears forcing their way into the corners of his eyes.

He was prepared for the pain the second time, and managed to sit up. He looked around. The wood floor was littered with empty bottles, crumpled cans and used napkins. The vid tables were over turned along with the dishes and dinner that had been interrupted the night before. The vid unit was still on, though it had been muted. Snoring could be heard from the kitchen. His mother lay passed out on the sofa with a bottle of whiskey tucked safely under her arm.

Damon quickly got up, no longer caring about his injuries, and walked over to his mother. He was glad to see that she didn’t appear to be injured; the alcohol had done more damage than anything else. He placed a hand on her shoulder and shook it gently.

“Mom,” he whispered. No response. He shook her again, raising his voice slightly. “Mom, wake up.”

She moaned softly and slowly opened her eyes. She muttered something about a drink and let her eyes drift closed again. Damon took the bottle from her hand and slowly made his way to the kitchen, trying to rub some feeling back into his stiff limbs. The big man lay hunched over the kitchen table, snoring loudly, still clutching a mostly empty bottle. Damon entertained the idea of putting a cup of Tabasco sauce in his bottle, but decided against it. He quietly filled a cup with water and returned to the living room.

“Mom,” he shook her again, trying to encourage her to sit up. After a few attempts, he managed to get her into a mostly upright position. He gave her the cup and watched her drain it greedily. She lay back down, letting the cup fall to the floor. When he stood up, she took his hand and looked up at him. “Don’t go… please.”

He looked at the stairs longingly. His room was up there, where he could lock the door and fall safely asleep on his bed. “I was just grabbing the remote.” He picked up the remote control, eased himself down onto the floor with his back to the couch and flipped to the Saturday morning cartoons.

---

He would like to think she’d be proud, or grateful but in all honesty, and with the experience with alcohol he has now, he doesn’t think she was even aware half the time. Her sober moments were spent in the stores buying more booze. She had given up the fight but he couldn’t. Somewhere along the way, he made a promise to both her and himself. It was never spoken, but it never needed to be. Now, more than 15 years later… Now things are different. He is different- so much has changed. But she is no doubt the same- always will be. Just like them…

Quote:

---

Damon sits up as more slaves continue to enter the barracks, one more starved and beaten than the last. The room becomes a bit brighter as a few more dim, barely functioning lights are turn

NOTIFY: Y  | REPLY  | REPLY WITH QUOTE  | PERMALINK  | TOP  | HOME