Tell 'Em (Rayne Never Falls)
Disclaimer: Uh. I like River and it's not my fault my Jayne really, really doesn't? And the important parts belong to Joss Whedon, Esquire, Emperor of Yadda Yadda, Creator of The Big Damn Show, can we read the story part now please.
You asked for it. Or maybe you didn't. XD
That was the thing. That was the trick of it. The little hitch in the works that was River Tam.
Sure, he was afraid of her. Jayne had the good sense to be at least wary of anybody with a right hook like hers. 'N' she could see in his brain. Her soul could eat his for breakfast with no trouble and a grin. Whenever she stared at him it sent a shiver from the top of his neck clean down to his bootsoles.
But it was more than bein' scared. A lot more.
He was damn jealous of her. Of the little crazy girl. She could go screamin' out of her head whenever she wanted, babblin' about blue hands, and Simon'd run to her right quick, hover over her real good, fix her up.
Jayne doesn't cry anymore. Don't change nothin' any, isn't manful, an' it never struck him as too useful. It's not like anybody'd help him if he did.
She's always there. Lookin' at him with those huge eyes--how the hell'd she grow 'em so big, anyway, ain't natural, they're not human eyes, big as plates and bottomless, dark as death's butthole at midnight. She just stands there and looks at him.
Ain't right.
She follows him sometimes, when he drinks. Just watches him do it. He hates that. He hates her.
It must be nice to be her, see everything, know everybody's business all the gorram time. Must be ruttin' great. What's she gotta cry for, anyhow? Nothin' he remembers bothers him anymore, not with the whiskey in the way.
He envies her, and wasn't it Ma said covetin' was one of them Ten Commandments he shouldn't ought to break. Thou shalt not. Right. Well, he's shot those all to hell and back. And he covets, all right. He covets something fierce.
It must be great to be River Tam. It's gotta beat the shit outta being Jayne Cobb, that's for right certain.
It must be easy to unsee on shiny needle-fed bliss comin' from the steady hands of someone who cares.
Jayne wonders if the wool Simon's bound her eyes with is as soft and warm as it looks.
Once again with the big flashing "I don't hate River" and "it's not my fault".
HOWEVER.dot com. Rayne should not exist. There's your proof.
You asked for it. Or maybe you didn't. XD
That was the thing. That was the trick of it. The little hitch in the works that was River Tam.
Sure, he was afraid of her. Jayne had the good sense to be at least wary of anybody with a right hook like hers. 'N' she could see in his brain. Her soul could eat his for breakfast with no trouble and a grin. Whenever she stared at him it sent a shiver from the top of his neck clean down to his bootsoles.
But it was more than bein' scared. A lot more.
He was damn jealous of her. Of the little crazy girl. She could go screamin' out of her head whenever she wanted, babblin' about blue hands, and Simon'd run to her right quick, hover over her real good, fix her up.
Jayne doesn't cry anymore. Don't change nothin' any, isn't manful, an' it never struck him as too useful. It's not like anybody'd help him if he did.
She's always there. Lookin' at him with those huge eyes--how the hell'd she grow 'em so big, anyway, ain't natural, they're not human eyes, big as plates and bottomless, dark as death's butthole at midnight. She just stands there and looks at him.
Ain't right.
She follows him sometimes, when he drinks. Just watches him do it. He hates that. He hates her.
It must be nice to be her, see everything, know everybody's business all the gorram time. Must be ruttin' great. What's she gotta cry for, anyhow? Nothin' he remembers bothers him anymore, not with the whiskey in the way.
He envies her, and wasn't it Ma said covetin' was one of them Ten Commandments he shouldn't ought to break. Thou shalt not. Right. Well, he's shot those all to hell and back. And he covets, all right. He covets something fierce.
It must be great to be River Tam. It's gotta beat the shit outta being Jayne Cobb, that's for right certain.
It must be easy to unsee on shiny needle-fed bliss comin' from the steady hands of someone who cares.
Jayne wonders if the wool Simon's bound her eyes with is as soft and warm as it looks.
Once again with the big flashing "I don't hate River" and "it's not my fault".
HOWEVER.dot com. Rayne should not exist. There's your proof.