(no subject)

[river_meimei]

0900, ship's time. It's an hour or so after breakfast. (At least for some. Breakfast is a do-it-yourself affair, and on hungover days Jayne doesn't tend to stumble out of his bunk until a good while later.)

It's time for River's daily meds.

This has been a daily routine for years now, so there's no real reluctance in the way she's slowly meandering towards the infirmary. All the same: it's slow.

(Simon often comes to find her, rather than her coming to the infirmary. But she's trying to be nice to Mal.)

Comments

[river_meimei]

Half a beat.

And then River grins, a quick

(comprehending)

flash.

"Okay," she says, and this time she turns, takes three swift steps, and slips through the open door.




Pausing just outside the door, she casts an impish glance over her shoulder. "Race you."

[badinlatin]

Mal nods once before barreling out the door towards the cargo bay catwalk steps.

He's so screwed.

[river_meimei]

He narrowly misses River, and gets an extra half-second from the fact that River's giggling too much at the quick dodging to make it around the corner and up the steps before him. Instead, she has to try darting under his arm, still giggling, and snaking around him to get ahead.



Later, she'll sit quiet and nauseous on a box, studying her bare toes while the familiar short-term side effects slide through her system; later than that, she'll hold dinner plates carefully in both hands, helping to set the table and feeling the furniture and chopsticks in case her eyes are lying again, because no medicine helps everything, and no medicine helps all the time.

But for now -- for now, River's laughing, and yeah, Mal's screwed.