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Jan. 7th, 2005 06:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flybywashTheir two days dirtside had paid off: a boat so fine-tuned she practically hummed, a cargo hold stacked chest deep with supplies (including some fresh oranges -- and if anybody noticed that there hadn't been a single produce stand within fifty miles of port, well, far be it for them to say as much), and everyone's pockets stuffed with more credits than they'd ever expected to earn. Mal gave them a few hours to do with as they pleased while he and Zoe finished moving the last of their latest cargo into the ship; so Wash, after a quick kiss good-bye, powered up the mule and headed back into town, Kaylee and Simon perched on the back.
When they returned two hours later, there was some confusion as to why, of all the things Wash could've spent his share on, he'd chosen to buy two emergency basic needs crates of the sort that new travellers would sometimes haul along during their first trip off-world. They were largely considered a waste of money, even for those green kids who couldn't even think about breaking atmo without getting sick. What gave?
He just quirked a smile and started dragging them upstairs.
Part of him, the selfish, hardened part that had only become worse as more time passed on Serenity, was demanding to know just what in the hell he thought he was doing, too. Oh, sure, it was wonderful and noble, but it wasn't like they would be rolling in food and meds and water for much longer either. Nor like this was going to have any sort of impact on anyone in the 'verse; hell, he was giving this stuff to a planet that'd be nothing but rot and ash in a hundred and fifty years. What kind of sense did that make?
Fortunately, said part also sounded uncannily like Jayne, so it made it all the easier for him to cold-cock it over the head with a metaphorical wrench and go back to lugging the crates toward the bridge.
You know, he thought ruefully, as he yanked open the door and saw what was becoming the familiar, bright bustle of Milliways, that's probably the only way I'm ever going to land a blow on our favourite trigger-happy crewmate. How pathetic.
When they returned two hours later, there was some confusion as to why, of all the things Wash could've spent his share on, he'd chosen to buy two emergency basic needs crates of the sort that new travellers would sometimes haul along during their first trip off-world. They were largely considered a waste of money, even for those green kids who couldn't even think about breaking atmo without getting sick. What gave?
He just quirked a smile and started dragging them upstairs.
Part of him, the selfish, hardened part that had only become worse as more time passed on Serenity, was demanding to know just what in the hell he thought he was doing, too. Oh, sure, it was wonderful and noble, but it wasn't like they would be rolling in food and meds and water for much longer either. Nor like this was going to have any sort of impact on anyone in the 'verse; hell, he was giving this stuff to a planet that'd be nothing but rot and ash in a hundred and fifty years. What kind of sense did that make?
Fortunately, said part also sounded uncannily like Jayne, so it made it all the easier for him to cold-cock it over the head with a metaphorical wrench and go back to lugging the crates toward the bridge.
You know, he thought ruefully, as he yanked open the door and saw what was becoming the familiar, bright bustle of Milliways, that's probably the only way I'm ever going to land a blow on our favourite trigger-happy crewmate. How pathetic.
