OOC: Memory #7 (Sound/Smell)
[This memory is from the pilot episode, "Serenity". The staticed-out names are "Kaylee" and "Jayne". Simon's punishment is to be followed around by (LINK NSFW) "Uchiha" by Eddie Rath for four days.]
Simon could not see or feel anything, but his ears were filled with the clatter of plates and cutlery, the sound of casual chatter. He could also smell various foods; it was a mealtime, then.
"It's not much; I had a garden at the abbey, thought I should bring what I could." The voice that spoke was unfamiliar and male, and the indistinct talk of others was still able to be heard in the background as he spoke.
"It's very kind of you to share with all of us," Simon told the man.
"It won't last. They're not the same when they're frozen. The important thing is the spices; a man can live on packaged food from here 'til Judgment Day if he's got enough rosemary," he replied, a chuckle in his voice. "Captain... do you mind if I say grace?"
"Only if you say it out loud," replied a familiar male voice- Mal, in reality, although Simon himself had come to think of it as Rick's voice by now. There was a moment of respectful silence nonetheless, punctuated by only one set of utensils clanking against a plate, before everyone began to tuck into their meal.
"So does it happen a lot?" Simon piped up. "Government comandeering your ship, telling you where to go?"
"That's what governments are for," Mal said cynically. "Get in a man's way."
"Well it's good, if the supplies are needed," said a second unknown male voice.
"Yeah, we're just happy to be doin' good works," snorted another familiar voice, the still-unnamed goateed man Simon had seen and heard multiple times before.
"I hear a lot of the border moons are in bad shape," said the second man. "Plagues and famine..."
"Well, some of that's exaggerated and... some of it ain't," said yet another unknown voice, this one belonging to a woman. "All those moons- just like the central planets- they're as close to Earth-that-was as we could make 'em. Gravity, atmosphere and such. But..."
"Once they're terraformed," Mal continued, "they'll dump settlers on there with nothin' but blankets, hatchets, maybe a herd. Some of them make it, some of 'em..." He trailed off.
"... Then I guess it's good we're helping," said Simon, his tone polite and neutral.
"You're a doctor, right?" Simon recognized Serenity's voice this time.
"Oh, ah. Yes. I was, uh, a trauma surgeon on Osiris in Capital City," he told her, and he could hear a bit of reluctance in his tone.
"Long way from here," Mal remarked.
"You seem so young. To be a doctor," said Serenity, and he could sense her curiosity.
"You're pretty young to be a ship's mechanic," said Simon, clearly trying to change the subject.
"Know how," said Serenity with pride. "Machines just got workin's and they talk to me."
"That's a rare gift," said the first man, the one who had wanted to say grace.
"Well, not like being a doctor! Helping fix people, that's important!"
"Little [static] here just wishes you were a gynecologist," sneered the goateed man, laughing crudely- however, nobody else appeared to be amused.
"[static]. You will keep a civil tongue in that mouth or I will sew it shut. Is there an understanding between us?" said Mal sharply.
"You don't pay me to talk pretty," said the goateed man flatly. "Just because [static] gets lubed up over some big-city dandy..."
"Walk away from this table. Right now," Mal snapped. There was a long and very awkward pause, before the sounds of a chair sliding back and creaking could be heard, as well as some clattering, then footsteps as the man presumably picked up his dinner and left.
"... What do you pay him for?" Simon wanted to know.
"What?" Mal asked.
"I was just wondering what his job is. On the ship," said Simon.
"Public relations," said Mal after a beat, and then the memory faded.
Simon could not see or feel anything, but his ears were filled with the clatter of plates and cutlery, the sound of casual chatter. He could also smell various foods; it was a mealtime, then.
"It's not much; I had a garden at the abbey, thought I should bring what I could." The voice that spoke was unfamiliar and male, and the indistinct talk of others was still able to be heard in the background as he spoke.
"It's very kind of you to share with all of us," Simon told the man.
"It won't last. They're not the same when they're frozen. The important thing is the spices; a man can live on packaged food from here 'til Judgment Day if he's got enough rosemary," he replied, a chuckle in his voice. "Captain... do you mind if I say grace?"
"Only if you say it out loud," replied a familiar male voice- Mal, in reality, although Simon himself had come to think of it as Rick's voice by now. There was a moment of respectful silence nonetheless, punctuated by only one set of utensils clanking against a plate, before everyone began to tuck into their meal.
"So does it happen a lot?" Simon piped up. "Government comandeering your ship, telling you where to go?"
"That's what governments are for," Mal said cynically. "Get in a man's way."
"Well it's good, if the supplies are needed," said a second unknown male voice.
"Yeah, we're just happy to be doin' good works," snorted another familiar voice, the still-unnamed goateed man Simon had seen and heard multiple times before.
"I hear a lot of the border moons are in bad shape," said the second man. "Plagues and famine..."
"Well, some of that's exaggerated and... some of it ain't," said yet another unknown voice, this one belonging to a woman. "All those moons- just like the central planets- they're as close to Earth-that-was as we could make 'em. Gravity, atmosphere and such. But..."
"Once they're terraformed," Mal continued, "they'll dump settlers on there with nothin' but blankets, hatchets, maybe a herd. Some of them make it, some of 'em..." He trailed off.
"... Then I guess it's good we're helping," said Simon, his tone polite and neutral.
"You're a doctor, right?" Simon recognized Serenity's voice this time.
"Oh, ah. Yes. I was, uh, a trauma surgeon on Osiris in Capital City," he told her, and he could hear a bit of reluctance in his tone.
"Long way from here," Mal remarked.
"You seem so young. To be a doctor," said Serenity, and he could sense her curiosity.
"You're pretty young to be a ship's mechanic," said Simon, clearly trying to change the subject.
"Know how," said Serenity with pride. "Machines just got workin's and they talk to me."
"That's a rare gift," said the first man, the one who had wanted to say grace.
"Well, not like being a doctor! Helping fix people, that's important!"
"Little [static] here just wishes you were a gynecologist," sneered the goateed man, laughing crudely- however, nobody else appeared to be amused.
"[static]. You will keep a civil tongue in that mouth or I will sew it shut. Is there an understanding between us?" said Mal sharply.
"You don't pay me to talk pretty," said the goateed man flatly. "Just because [static] gets lubed up over some big-city dandy..."
"Walk away from this table. Right now," Mal snapped. There was a long and very awkward pause, before the sounds of a chair sliding back and creaking could be heard, as well as some clattering, then footsteps as the man presumably picked up his dinner and left.
"... What do you pay him for?" Simon wanted to know.
"What?" Mal asked.
"I was just wondering what his job is. On the ship," said Simon.
"Public relations," said Mal after a beat, and then the memory faded.