Mal-Jayne.

[bad_in_latin]

It's a no-name bar.

Hell, it's a gorram no-name planet, Mal corrects himself, knowing quite well that the planet has a name. It's just such a small one that no one cares when they come here. It's just a planet, a bar, a beer.

Mal's third. He has no clue how many Jayne's had by now.

Comments

[swinging_cod]

Jayne has no clue how many Jayne's had by now. It's hard, on account of a couple of 'em was small and don't half count and one of 'em was big and one or two of 'em were probably someone else's.

. . . hell, the one he's drinking now may be someone else's.

Could be as someone else ain't too happy about that.

[bad_in_latin]

Mal's doing his best to hide his smirk behind his glass.

There's a very scruffy-looking blonde man about half Jayne's bulk coming up to tap him on the shoulder.

[swinging_cod]

Oh hell no.

You don't touch Jayne's shoulder without askin'. Not when he's drinking. Not unless the first thing he sees when he looks around at you is a pair of boobs.

Which Jayne, having turned around with his best double-barreled glare, ain't currently seeing.

"Best have a real good reason for stickin' your nose in my face, pal," says Jayne, already flexes his fingers with an audible crack of the knuckles.

"I believe," says the man, not noticeably unnerved, "that in an unfortunate misunderstanding, you've absconded with my drink.

"Buddy."

[bad_in_latin]

Well this is not going to go anywhere good.

For the blond guy.

"Ain't no harm meant by it, I'm sure," Mal offers more affably than perhaps he would have without some liquor behind him. "Bartender? Another...whatever this man was havin'?"

Bartender shrugs with a worried look. All out of that brand, the look says.

Uh oh.