Xandrya

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”Damages”

Collaborative post with @wanderingwolf

---

"Indulge me with 'nother round if ya will." Imani held up the empty glass, shaking it slightly once the bartender turned his attention to her. He was happy to oblige as he nodded his approval; business was business after all. “Much appreciated.”

The young woman currently sat alone in one of the local bars near the Doll, the name unknown. After a much-needed slumber, Imani figured it’d do her good to get a drink or two in her system. Besides, the ship was slightly too quiet for her taste then, preferring the buzzing voices of the chatter heads in the vicinity. Though her outing wasn’t without risk, she kept a low profile covering 'erself up. And on her way out she’d seen Yuri and had specified she’d be just across the way. Nice fella, that one. If he was any indication as to the remaining crew, then her trip would be quite pleasant. The thought made her smile, also in time to get that second round placed in front of her.

Another first sip that went down smoothly made Imani look forward to this supposed great food onboard her new temporary home.

"I'll claim," Cal said. With his hat resting on the chair back, he eyed the Orange tall card, gauging the reaction of the other two players at the table.

"Strand claims the tall," said the dealer, a large, brutish woman at his right elbow, whose leather smock proclaimed her daytime duty as a butcher.

After a deadpan interrogation of her cards, she chewed on her words, "Dealer folds."

Reclining, Cal's eyes swung to the scrawny man at his left elbow. The man flipped his cards between his palms before slapping them face-down on the table.

"Now I knew you were a smart man!" the Captain said with a grin as he leaned forward to rake the pot.

"Three hands yew claimed, Strand. Three! Ain't nobody that lucky, yew heer?" The scrawny man leveled a finger at Cal's overturned cards: a five of a kind, all Orange suit. "Nobody butta cheeter!"

"And now I gotta eat crow." Cal said, straightening out the bills into a neat pile. "Brains plum weren't in your cards to begin with, was it?"

The resulting blow across the chin knocked the wind out of Cal for a moment, but that was enough for the large butcher woman to enclose his arms in a vice-grip while the scrawny man began his second assault on Cal's stomach.

Some commotion or the other drew her attention enough for Imani to glance over her shoulder, drink in hand simultaneously being placed down on the bartop. Seemed a couple of patrons had overpowered some poor chap who was being pummeled halfway to next week. Imani figured it best to leave as no attention was good attention. She waved over the bartender and paid her tab, unfortunately having to leave the still half full glass behind.

Making her way being more curious than she outta be, Imani glimpsed at the victim, her pace naturally slowing as she walked past towards the exit. No one she recognized, which was good.

"Mind ya business!" Skin and bones doing the beating spat at her, "Nosy gorram bitch!"

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Imani silently nodded. Her blood began to boil from being addressed as such to the extent where she then decided to make it her business too. She crept up behind him and quickly snaked an arm under his neck, pulling with all her might, practically lifting him off his seat. His arms thrashed at her instinctively, but Imani upped her efforts and squeezed tighter. His response came in the form of a sad attempt at verbal communication, though the end result was nothing but gibberish. Shrimp boy could've been turning all forms of blue, yet no one was coming to his aid, least not quick enough. His struggles intensified, and Imani lost her footing as a result. She fell on her side with shrimp boy being dragged down as well, the sudden slack giving him the chance to get a quick breath in. Seemed that was all he needed, though Imani recognized the small advantage he could gain. She ignored his neck and as he was coughing up a storm, she swung her leg to straddle him, using one arm to prop herself up followed by the free hand coming down on his jaw. Her fist made contact, and shrimp boy was out cold. Bit of bloody knuckles aside, Imani gripped his jaw to face him straight. He wasn't responding, his body not the least bit stiff.

To his sputtering surprise, Cal found the beatings had ceased, leaving his ribs aching. The large woman who held him tight from behind like a punching bag loosened her grip, granting the Captain the opportunity for a hail Mary stomp on her instep. Her howl was met with a timely elbow to the chin which landed Cal on his own two feet again.

"Mei Yong Ma Duh Tse Gu Yong!" she bellowed before rearing up and shoving Cal into his would-be savior, Imani. Cal did his best to break his fall against her, but the nail goes where the hammer tells it to…

Just about propping herself upright, Imani was knocked off balance by some weight greater than her own. She gasped, surprised by the sudden force sending her face first onto the floor. Imani managed to prevent some damage by using her hands, though her head still bounced off from the impact like a playground ball, the result being a gash just over her brow. Gathering herself, she turned to face what was keeping her pinned, and come to find out it was the man in need of rescuing. Trouble for him now meant trouble for her, though not if she could help it.

"Tryna make new friends? I believe they want us out..."

"You get that from their genteel tone?" Cal growled, rolling off of the woman. He hadn't taken a beating like this in donkey’s years; lucky the scrawny one didn't keep a tight enough lip, really. A moment later the enormous butcher laid hands on Imani, pulling her to her feet.

Cal noticed the man laid out like a limp fish beside him as he gathered his wits. Whoever Strand's savior was had done a number on his lineaments. As the large woman drew her to height, Cal spat blood on the barroom floor.

Her feet were effortlessly jerked off the ground. Imani had little to no time to react to the beefy woman, and so she instinctively threw a few kicks as she braced herself to be dropped like a bag of potatoes. The woman sure held her strength though, especially when she threw a fist flying towards Imani. The result was none too pretty as Imani's body temporarily went limp prior to her hitting the deck. Conscious nonetheless, and probably with the aid of whatever intervention, she had the time to get her wits about to reach for her top inconspicuous weapon of choice. A large hand was reaching down towards her and Imani put in all her might into stabbing the open palm, the scream that followed a result she had done right by herself.

The women fought viciously, even as his valiant rescuer's face hit wooden planks yet again. Strand saw his moment to intervene as the butcher closed in on Imani. He rose to his feet and picked up a chair to wield against the attacker, but it was all moot.

As Imani produced a lethal weapon, the barkeep racked his shotgun from behind the bar. Cal's weaponized chair paused in midair as he laid eyes on the business end of the weapon, along with the sole warning from the seedy bar's owner: "Leave on yer feet, or leave in a bag." The large butcher woman halted her assault in favor of licking her wounds, her free hand holding pressure on the gaping wound Imani had caused her palm.

"Don't know about you," Cal said to Imani, dropping the chair, his hands raised, "But I'll take option number one."

"It'd be suicide not to follow your lead," Imani shot a dirty look at the barkeep, her hand rubbing the pained jaw in an attempt to soothe the sore away.

"And leave yer cheatin' card money on the bar on yer way out. I'll call it damages," the bartender said, eyes sweeping over the mess their little brawl had wrought.

Cal shook his head, reaching into his breast pocket to retrieve the bills, slapping them on the shined wood surface.

Following the man outside the bar, she hurried up to his side. "That was quite the dramatic encounter, wouldn't you say? Fortunately for you, my presence there saved your rear." Imani "Are you often the troublemaker?"

Cal's face said he was feeling the 'drama' all over his ribs, the shiner on his eye, and his solar-plexus. "Trouble has a--" he coughed, which wracked his chest in a particularly painful wave, "--way of findin' me."

"That surely it does..." her words slowed and so did she, a hand hovered over his back instinctively in a protective manner as he coughed up hell. The consequences from whatever money play he had himself all involved in was evident now, if it wasn't before.

"Ah," Strand said as his hand pressed to his rib, "Doc's not goin' to like this..." He looked up at Imani, stopping to lean on his knees. "Thanks for steppin' in. Reckon I owe you," He coughed again, before asking "You got a name?"

"I got a name, but I ain't too keen on sharing—though I'll make an exception since I reckon you oughta meet your savior... I go by Imani, part-time hero I suppose," she shrugged her shoulders, looking at him as his struggled on. "Hope this doctor of yours is good."

“She’s no slouch, but I don’t reckon she’ll like the story what led to this.” He paused to assess the damage on his counterpart, “Ain’t a scratch on you. Quick thinkin’ with the knife.” He nodded his head before straightening. “Tell you what, Imani, since I owe you, already, might I impose a ways further? My boat’s up ahead, and standin’ upright at this moment feels damn near Bu Kuh Nuhn. Get me there, and I’ll make it worth your while.” Cal’s ribs ached him back into a doubled over position, but he stuck out a hand to shake nonetheless. (trans. impossible)

"Ain't got a scratch yet, but mainly 'cause the damage done was internal."

Imani looked him over when he made his request. She studied the stranger, his looks on par with someone getting theyselves in a ruckus over some winnings. A little arrogant too, from what she gathered, but not particularly a bad thing since he seemed trusting enough.

"I can spare some time, long as you don't get us killed 'fore we get there."

Eventually the two reached their destination, or a destination. The China Doll herself. "I don't even have your name but you happen to know where I stay? Thought I was escorting you back, being all 'gentlemanly' for your sake and all."

Cal stood himself upright and took tender steps toward the Doll, attempting to keep stride with Imani. At her balking he replied, “Where you’re stayin’? Well, I’d be tempted to chalk it up to fate you’d be signed on my boat; Cal Strand, Captain,” he said,offering her a hand to shake. “And far as I can tell, you sure throw a punch like a gentleman, I’ll give you that. You a passenger to Pelorum?” The Captain said, stepping onto the ramp of his home.

"What do you know, quite the coincidence ain't it?" she shook his hand with a gentle touch. So he was a captain...suiting job for a man like him. Imani followed him up the ramp as she didn't see the need to stick around out in the open. "Looks like we're both fighters, though you heavily outrank me as I am indeed but a passenger." She looked behind her for a moment, then turned her attention to Strand once more. "The destination don't matter as much as my need to get outta here," Imani shrugged her shoulders.

“I can handle myself,” he said unconvincingly, working his jaw with the heel of his palm. “Anywhere but here, huh?” That started the cogs to turning in the Captain’s head as he paused toward his inevitable fate of limping past the infirmary. This woman could hold her own. The way she knocked out the scrawny man with a single blow, then ended things quick with the butcher told him she’d scrapped her way a plenty. “Next few hops past Pelorum could see me in a couple more brawls; you lookin’ for work?”

If he had any luck left in the Verse, Alana’d be out and about by now, but seeing how he just got the la shi kicked out of him for cheating at cards, something told him lady luck had passed him by.

"A job you say?" she smirked, her eyes focused forward as her day suddenly took a turn for the better despite the previous incident.. Looks like someone is indeed in need of some rescuin' in the future... Imani kept the last bit to herself, placing a hand on his back. "It never hurts to strike a deal, the legal and fair kind I mean... Let's talk details over some painkillers, shall we?"

Firefly - Second 'Verse

“Welcome Aboard!”

Collaborative post with @sail3695

---

"The little critters givin' ya some work, aren't they?"

"They sure are," Jadaline smiled nostalgically, glancing back at her two sons playing with some toys before shutting close the front door to her modest home. "With Zane gone on this new contract he managed to snatch up, it's a damn miracle I ain't driven myself crazy just yet."

"You'll be alright, J, children'll be children," Imani chimed in, herself reminiscing the olden days. There were some fond memories here and there between the heartache and struggles she came to know from such a young age. But despite Imani's past, Jadaline was that one friend who proved to be beyond loyal. Her heart o' gold always made everything alright, and Imani never took her worth for granted.

"They'll be grown 'fore you know it, so enjoy this time prior to them leaving the nest."

Jadaline sighed as if the statement had saddened her. No reason why, the now and then was still a long ways away. That's what Imani figured.

"Ya sure you can't stay? There's plenty to discuss. I can make ya that supper you like."

Imani shook her head, patting her friend's shoulder. "Messy business if I stay; it's best I go, and the sooner the better."

The two hugged it out for a moment before saying their goodbyes and parting ways, Jadaline watching her friend's departure before going back inside to tend to her sons.

******

Having purchased a scarf to conceal some of her features, Imani kept a low profile as she navigated the horde currently going about their day. Having her head angled down some, she mistakenly bumped a tall, large man dressed for business. He turned his head to shoot her a deathly glare before two more look-alikes bumped her out of her path, moving him along to whatever destination. In different circumstances, she would've said something, but Imani figured it best to not bring about any trouble onto herself. She looked off to the side, ignoring the unpleasantry that had just presented itself, and noticed a Firefly class seemingly open for business.

What's to lose? she concluded, starting to make her way towards the ship ​​and its welcoming host comfortably positioned on a lawn chair.

Thus far, Yuri’s attempts to hawk China Doll’s services seemed to draw naught but oddities and parasites. The oddity’s business card lay in his pocket. The parasite stood before him, gesturing grandly as he ran a well polished spiel. “Tell ya true, son,” the man waved toward the Doll’s hull. “Your burn coat’s nigh on shot to hell. At best you got one, mayhaps two burn in’s left.” He broke from his scrutiny to fix Yuri with a narrow eye. “Where ya say you’re goin’ next?”

“Pelorum.”

“Pelorum?” The salesman spat on the ground. “That’s some thick air. Hit this old hull like a sand blaster. I take it back. You gotta recoat now.”

“You don’t think she’ll take it?” he asked.

The shyster wiped his brow. “Hoo, doggy! She might. She might not. You’re really rollin’ the dice to burn into Pelorum with this old girl in such a sorry state.”

“But you can help me out.” Yuri tried not to smile as he offered the man an opening.

“I sure can! Son…”

“Yuri…”

“Yuri…pleased to meetcha! I can set you up with the last bottom coat you’ll ever need.” The salesman jammed a screen before the 1st mate. “Feast yer eyes on that!” he grinned. “Duraburn ProMax Plus Undercoat! It’s the latest thing! Alliance been puttin’ it on their ships for five years, but now we can sell it at a discount to hard workin’ folk like you! Got a special runnin’ today only,” the salesman’s eye swept across the hull. “Class three Firefly rate’s thirty-five hundred, but today only? Nineteen ninety-nine!”

“No.” Yuri shook his head.

The salesman’s viewscreen glowed with a capture vid. A smiling young woman in a short skirt and polo shirt sprayed a thick black coating onto a gleaming shuttle. “Tell yah what I’m gonna do,” the salesman whisked the image away. “I’ll get in trouble for this, but I swear I couldn’t sleep knowin” I letcha fly off unprotected. Give you the full bottom coat, and I’ll throw in some touch up on your name header up there. Seventeen hundred…out the door.” He awaited Yuri’s reaction, his face projecting the classic “you’d be crazy to turn this down” expression.

The new Mate took to his feet. “Tell me,” Yuri lifted his eyes toward the hull, “can you spray that Duraburn ProMax Plus all over me?”

“Why you want a thing like that?”

“Because,” Yuri smiled, “if my captain learned I’d blown seventeen hundred of his credits he’d burn me right to ash. But thanks for your time.”

“You’re makin’ a big mistake, son,” the salesman shook his head as he wandered off. “A big mistake…”

With a quiet chuckle, Yuri settled into the lawn chair, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, fingers of both hands twined upon his stomach. I wonder how much of this Abby puts up with? he mused.

Having caught the end of the sales pitch, an impressive one at that going by persistence alone, Imani chuckled as she approached the ship. With a smile, she walked up to its occupant she figured to be responsible for letting folks aboard the aircraft.

"Mighty fine way to start the day, staving off his services and whatnot." She eyeballed the man up and down, noting the cast on his arm. Looks like he did more than charge for admittance and then some. "Name's Imani, promise I'm not selling a thing," she held out her hand introducing herself. Politeness went a long way, especially when favors were needed. "I'm looking for a way off this rock, is that a possibility with you?"

Being a wanderer on and off, sometimes without choice, meant she knew what she was asking for.

“So you’re not selling anything?” the 1st mate smiled as he rose. “Then you just made my day already. Yuri,” he took her hand for an introductory shake. “Nice to meet you, Imani. And China Doll is definitely a way to get off Osiris, if Pelorum’s where you’re bound.”

"Trust my word, were I selling you sumthin, you'd be havin' a word with your captain," Imani smirked. "Pelorum sounds as good as any," she added, glancing past him at the China Doll. Not a bad one at all... "Standard fare I take it?" Imani reached for some coin tucked away in her bag's side pocket, her jacket inching back, partly displaying the black grip of her sidearm.

“Yes ma’am,” Yuri nodded. “That’ll get you a single berth. We do have a double left for an additional fee, if you like.” The sidearm’s grip did catch the corner of his eye, an observation the Mate felt no need to advertise as he addressed a potential customer. “I don’t have a hard departure time yet. Captain’s making arrangements, but it’s likely to be two or three days from now. You’re welcome to come aboard when you like, though.”

She was gathering her coin accordingly as Yuri explained the workings. "A single berth's all I need. I carry light, and the added luxury's not sumthin I'm seeking." Once she had enough, Imani reached out her hand with a smile, handing over her payment to him. "I sure do hope the food is up to standard. Last transport I spent half my time locked up and sick, tryna avoid that same now. Help a girl out here, am I safe or should I stock up prior to the China Doll's departure?"

Yuri accepted her coin, tucking it into his pocket before he set to work on a receipt. “I try not to exaggerate, so I feel at ease telling you that I think our cook’s a wonder.” His eyes rose to meet hers as he said, “the man knows how to use seasoning, and somehow he scrounges up some pretty amazing stuff for our table. I’d say you’re safe, Imani,” he shrugged, “but you’ll get a couple chances to conjure that for yourself before we break atmo.”

The stylus halted its’ movement. “Imani, can I have your last name for the manifest?”

"Well then, can't wait to meet this wondrous cook o' yours." Relief visibly washed over her face as she stole a quick glance towards the entrance once more. Looked like her first round pick was a winner, lucky her. "Name's Ozuka, Imani Ozuka. I-M-A-N-I O-Z-U-K-A. Sumtimes the good folk don' get it right," she shrugged, placing her hands on her hips as she watched Yuri secure her spot in the manifest. She'd at last be able to let her guard down for a little.

“Imani Ozuka,” Yuri repeated as he added her to the passenger manifest. Next, having completed her receipt, he offered the document. “That’s a nice name. Welcome aboard the China Doll.” He folded the clipboard beneath his cast as he gestured toward the cargo ramp. “Allow me to show you to your quarters?”

"Kindly appreciate that," she motioned with the receipt in hand before tucking it away out of sight. Yuri offered the subtle compliment and Imani smiled a little in response, looking up the cargo bay once a walk-through was up for grabs. "Please, show the way. Not my first rodeo onboard a Firefly but it be best I not walk into a stranger's room doin' whatever strangers do dockside." Her expression was vague; possibly a joke, possibly not.

“Yeah,” he chuckled as they crossed the empty cargo bay. “My last ship didn’t have locking doors. One mistake was all I needed.” He spent the next few minutes relaying the captain’s rules and the ‘go-no go’ places aboard the boat. “And here,” Yuri slid open a cabin door, “is your berth. Usually there’s a deckhand named Abby who looks after passengers, but she’s got a couple days off. ‘Til she’s back, If you need anything, you can find me, or Joe Hooker, the cook.”

There was something quite likable about this Imani Ozuka. She was obviously attractive, but it was the easy confidence in her demeanor that drew his interest. He had a feeling that such a nature came with a number of engaging stories. Hopefully there might be time for us to swap a few, he conjured. “Speaking of,” he pointed toward the stairway, “Hook’s got a coffee cake and fresh coffee up in the galley. Feel free to enjoy.”

"Sounds lovely, though I ain't one of them caffeine fiends looking to get their hands on that next fix." Imanie stepped through the hatch, glancing around her birthing which'd be home for the foreseeable future. "I much prefer a good plate at my disposal." Her tired shoulders were just about done. Imani set her rucksack down on the deck and turned to face him. "Well you're as nice as they come, and you've been of great help. I'll be seeing ya later, Yuri."

And with that, Imani was off to sleep away the insomnia from the previous night.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

“Ever’body good?”

Collaborative post with @sail3695

---

There she stood, perfectly unscathed as she glanced over the bruises scattered about on the face of her 18-year-old patient. In the short time Alana had known Abigail, the girl had been shot and brutally beaten, and she couldn't help but feel pity for her. It's as if she was being handed one misfortune after the next. Despite her strength and resilience, such young soul shouldn't have to go through these harrowing events, and it pained Alana to once more have to tend to her wounds.

Once satisfied with the vitals check, Alana was about to head back out of the infirmary when the young girl stirred herself awake, the grogginess evident from her expression a sure tell the cocktail of meds had done its job. "Hey there, Abby, I hope you're feeling better." Her condition could have been worse, but the scan that was conducted upon their immediate return to the ship the night prior showed no internal bleeding nor damage. Overall the prognosis was good, and she just had to reduce the swelling as well as the pain and keep monitoring. "Your swelling has gone down some but since you're gonna be mighty sore for the foreseeable future, I'll let the captain know you'll be on bedrest until further notice. Don't need him trying to prod you to get back out on that ramp."

Most times she woke, Abby conjured she’d been dreamin’, even when she couldn’t recollect no part of the dream. Not this time. Doc’s voice come onta her mind like the first star in an empty black sky. She blinked, lifted a hand tah rub tha sleep from ‘er eyes…that’s when she found she could see outta her right eye agin…an’ seen the Doc, lookin’ down on her. She always knew Alana’s pretty, but the care and kindness in her eyes proved that fact beyond all doubt.

When she spoke, ‘er voice come thick as molasses an’ jest as hard fer her tongue tah navigate. “How long?” Abby slurred like she had three Vodka Boom-Booms. “How long I been here?”

Poor girl was straining to speak. Alana placed the palm of her hand on Abby's shoulder as reassurance. "You ain't been out long, just overnight." She walked away from Abby for a moment, intending on providing additional comfort. "Let me get some water for ya, and if you want I can always ask one of the crew to cook up something for you." She reached inside the cold storage unit to pull out a bottle before walking right back. "Alternatively, if you're having a hard time swallowing, I can always put in an IV to help. All your choice, of course."

“Naw,” her voice come out sleepy. “I’m good. Thank yew,” Abby took tha water. She pressed an elbow inta tha paddin’ tah rise up. As she did, tha sheet tumbled down ‘round her. “Huh.” the girl said at first sight of them bruises on ‘er body. “I near plumb forgot.” The first swallow ‘o’ water was a cool revival. She swished it about inside ‘er mouth afore sendin’ it down. “We all copasetic?” she asked the Doc. “Ever’body good?”

Alana took a step to help, but Abby was already propping up all on her own. Instead, she degloved and leaned forward to put her weight on the handrails. "Not a scratch on their pretty little heads, so you needn't worry..." She paused for a moment, then looked the girl in the eyes. "Abby, I was thinking, do you want me to go talk to Cal about possibly having someone on the ramp with you when eventually you get back to working?"

She’d been thinkin’ ‘bout them’s she ain’t seen last night. Hook weren’t about, but Cap/n had spoke with ‘im on a walkie, so the girl conjured he musta been near. But Pen. She ain’t seen hide nor hair. Still, if Doc says all souls was well then she got no reason tah question that.

Abby’s ‘bout tah ask when she could git back tah work when Doc’s question knocked pins right out from under. Shook as she was, that water bottle come close tah slippin’ from ‘er fingers. Her mind raced tah figger out a answer what come across as ‘well reasoned and mature,’ while a part ‘o’ her recoiled at notion of bein’ babysat.

She took a minute on it, stretchin’ time by addin’ a swig from her water afore answerin’. “Doc,” Abby finally spoke, “if I cain’t do muh job on muh own I ain’t much use tah tha Cap’n. Don’t got a proper education. What I know best is what I learnt on boats, an’ there’s precious little ‘o’ that. Most girls dealt my cards got three choices in this life, husband, housekeepin’, or whorin’. Cap’n gave me a diff’rent road, an’ I don’t aim tah place burden on ‘im fer ‘is wisdom.” She straightened her backbone an’ met Doc’s eye. “I fought them as took me. Didn’t win, but I didn’t stop fightin’ ‘em…got most these bruises tah show fer it. Kinda shows me what I need learnin’ on next,” she said. “Gettin’ faster on muh draw an’ smarter with muh fists.”

She wasn't too receptive of Alana's suggestion, that much obvious given Abby's sudden shift in body language. It was a touchy subject, and since Alana was no psychologist, she didn't want to press the matter beyond what needed pressing. "I get your concerns, believe me. It ain't an easy road to walk on for some." Abby was the individualistic type, and maybe a pinch stubborn as a result. But at the least, Alana wanted to get the message across as she was trying to do right by her younger crewmate. "What you went through, and the aftermath, isn't at all a sign of weakness. You're resilient, and brave, and honestly stronger than some of them on this ship. I'm simply concerned, that's why I suggested having a partner out there with ya, if only for a little while post recovery." Alana straightened up, turning to toss the used gloves on the bin behind her. "If you give it further thought, you can come straight to me and I'm sure Cal will be more than happy to consider it."

Alana ended her statement with a smile before changing the subject.

"By the way, I took some lessons in massage therapy way back then, they help make those nasty little bruises go away faster. Can't do it right away, but can be done further along in recovery."

“Massage sounds mighty nice,” the girl worked up a smile. Abby had a good think on what the Doc had tah say. Chances were she’s so pent up ‘bout twice fallin’ on Cap’n’s good will by gettin’ ‘erself inta medbay that mayhaps she weren’t listenin’ afore her mouth run off. “I dunno,” the girl finally give up. “Doc, what scares me most is Cap’n doin’ tha math an’ conjurin’ I put ‘im inta red ink.” She folded ‘er arms about ‘erself, “When them bikers took me? I had a hunnerd fifty credits in muh pocket…money paid fer haulin’ cargo. They took it. Way I see it, that’s on me.”

“Abby, 'tween you and me, I have a very strong feeling that the captain would much prefer them bikers return you in one piece rather than the credits. Those blows to the head must have left you unconscious at some point, so what were you supposed to do?” Alana shrugged her shoulders, thinking it, but not saying it. In all honesty, the girl wasn’t the one to blame here. The gang was looking to retaliate and Abby just so happened to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Listen, along with the painkillers I’ll give ya, I’m also mandating you be stress free for the next couple of days, and that includes avoid overthinking the finance dealings with the captain. Think you up for it?"

“A couple days?” Abby looked up. “And then I can git back tah work?”

The question made Alana laugh a little. "Yes, a couple of days...given you're back to full health by then. Otherwise, I'm afraid you'll be on some additional sick leave. And Abby, I don't want you to go on hiding one ailment or the other from me, dohn mah? I don't care how long we're down by one, we can make it work..."

Her statement had concluded with a more serious tone, hopefully getting the girl to understand the severity of the situation.

What tha Doc said had a little sting to it, but them shenanigans Abby pulled on New Melbourne made Alana’s words more’n fair. “Got muh word, Doc,” she said all solemn like. “I’ll stick to muh room…’less I’m gettin’ food or hittin’ tha lav. Somethin’ don’t feel right I’ll come see you, pronto.”

Despite her being fiercely independent, at least Abby had her wits involving her own health so as to not be reckless as she pleased. Alana nodded with a smile, her mind at ease after being reassured by her patient.

Thought ‘o’ bein’ laid up with naught but what she’s carryin’ inside ‘er head fer two whole days felt pert near tah her own brand ‘o’ hell. Still, Abby knew Alana was in tha right. She’s lucky just tah be all banged up, but one look at ‘er face was like tah scare away any passenger. She ‘membered when Ms. Wyman come aboard, face all swole up from ‘er husband’s thrashin’. All she wanted tah do was sleep, an’ Abby watched over ‘er fer some odd days while she did. If she’s bein’ true about it, she did feel a might hangdog.

“I always conjure workin’ makes ever’thin’ better,” Abby said, “but I’ll stick tah restin’. Can I git a proper shower, first?” she asked.

"Shower away, you'll feel tons better once you've properly cleaned up. Take the device with you," Alana motioned towards the small electronic sitting within Abby's reach, "You know what to do in case you need help while washing yourself. I'll go ahead and update the captain as to your condition; and as of right now you are no longer confined to these four walls. Come on, let's see how well you do on your feet."

Alana reached out a hand to help Abby stand, hoping her balance wouldn't fail her.

Abby eased down, one hand takin’ Alana’s as t’other held onta tha table. “Yer right,” she said as feet landed on tha cold deck, “I’m feelin’ a might stiff.” Tha girl stood fer a second, hands out tah test ‘er balance. When all felt right, she give ths Doc a nod. “Think I’m good.”

The gown was one of them what hung open in tha back. She weren’t too partial ta walkin’ outta here with her pi gu seein’ daylight, but lookin’ on them denims and unders she wore last three days settled that bite ‘o’ hash right quick. An’ that vest…tha bikers’ cut…lookin’ at it now’s like tah turn ‘er stomach.

As Doc watched, Abby collected all ‘er things one one arm. The little blinky Doc give her was scooped up in ‘er free hand. “Much obliged, Doc,” tha deckhand said as she made tracks fer the door.

Once it’s open, she stepped through…and suddenly stopped. Abby turned about, walked on stiff legs right up tah tha Doc, and thowed an arm around her. “Thank yew,” her voice cracked as she whispered, huggin’ Alana tight. “Fer what yah did last night. Thank yew.”

Alana embraced her in return, gently settling her chin atop the girl’s head and smiling to herself. “You’ve got nothing to thank me for, you know I’ll always be here for you.” In that moment, their relationship didn’t feel like one of a doctor and her patient, but rather, a bond close to what sisters may share. If Abby would decide to confide in her from that point forward, then she would have more than enough done her job.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Name:
Imani Ozuka

Age:
33

Appearance:
5’8 in stature with a feminine build. But her physique is deceiving as in actuality she’s stronger than she appears, even though to the naked eye it isn’t evident right away. Imani’s fashion choices are practical, fitted pieces and comfortable shoes making up just about her entire wardrobe. More often than not, her hair is pulled back and held in place by a hair stick which she can use in her defense in the absence of conventional weaponry.

Skills:
The ability to deceive with the right combinations of words. Imani can sway a conversation in her favor with ease if she chooses to, her carefree demeanor an indication she’s picked up more than her fair share of lessons from the streets. Equipped with the basic hand-to-hand combat knowledge, Imani has won a number of battles where just about anyone would bet on the other guy. Additionally, years of weapons handling under her belt makes her a candidate suitable enough for the likes of an enforcer role.

Personality:
She can do no wrong, or so she believes. Imani is usually outspoken save for the moments she knows to bite her tongue. She tends to shy away from difficult circumstances beyond her control, burying her emotions to come across as thick-skinned.

History:
With no sign of any blood relatives during her childhood years, Imani came to know many homes and many families since an early age, often seen off due to her own troubling behavior. The story passed down from the lips of officials to her ears was that her mother had sadly passed away due to complications during her birth and her father was estranged. No other living relative ever came forward to claim her, the damage only cementing as she grew older.

It wasn’t until adolescence where Imani came to know some form of stability. The small family of three who took her in were the ones responsible for schooling her on various survival methods, refining what she’d previously learned through discipline and even the occasional punishment. Even so, for the first time in her life, Imani felt truly happy, and she took it upon herself to let it be known to them.

The years passed and Imani eventually decided to go off on her own. It was an emotional moment, but no one was was left in the dark. She found her way making a living as a gun for hire, that and the occasional gambling she partakes in.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”These ain’t diet pills..."

Collab between @wanderingwolf & @Xandrya

_{JP takes place some time after the Doll leaves for Osiris...}

As Captain Strand descended the cargo bay scaffold stairs two at a time, he didn’t hear the rhythmic thrum of the Doll’s core engine, nor the comforting cold of the black. The sobering effect of the boat’s unified purpose, thanks to its crew and passengers, propelled him to seek the answers they all needed. The cargo bay was full with twelve large, steel cases what clinked slightly when Hook and he double strapped them into place for takeoff. ‘You stole two things from us,’ the biker leader had proclaimed, and Cal was keen to know just what it was Hafez had strapped them with. From what he could suss it weren’t just tonics and tinctures bound for the little soldiers of Osiris; no, whatever clung to cloth in these cases was somethin’ worth spilling blood for.

As his foot struck the deck, he caught sight of Alana and planted a hand on the infirmary door frame, “Doc, you got what you need to see what we’re saddled with?” His brow furrowed even as his jaw clenched in anticipation for the situation they burned sky toward on the surface of Osiris.

Her gaze fell on him, a solemn, silent nod in his direction being her only response to the inquiry. Alana momentarily tapped the sides of the testing kit box with her fingertips, which was not so much induced by the anxiety of what lay ahead for them, but purely out of worry for Abby's well-being. Having had some time to delve in the current predicament, she had been saddened by the troubling "what if' thoughts. Abby's life clung to the hope that they could manage a successful rescue, and no doubt there were some odds stacked against them too. With a sigh, she followed Cal out into the cargo bay, ready enough to do what was needed of her.

Strand drew the good doctor’s attention to a crate beside the one they’d kept from the deep sea of New Melbourne–even though it was laden with lucky cats. As his hands unfastened the straps to crate seven of twelve he added over his shoulder, “I ain’t no expert, but my gut tells me these ain’t diet pills or little blue pills.” As he hoisted the lid, rows of cleanly vacuum sealed paper boxes shone in the fluorescent bank lights.

“Schuler’s Hair Restoration Tonic,” he read aloud with a “Huh,” that came part and parcel with Cal’s frown as he plucked one out of the neat packaging and handed it to Alana.

"It sure don't look like it." Alana examined the package he'd handed her, then placed the kit down beside her and opened it to reach inside. Once equipped with a small blade, she made a cut across the top of the box, eventually revealing what was inside: small, clear bottles filled with green liquid capsules. "I'm afraid the shiny-headed are going to be disappointed," she added, meant as a joke but with her tone, coming off as anything but. Alana knelt down on the deck to open one of the bottles, unable to recognize its contents merely by sight. She wasn't the knowledgeable type when it came to pharmaceuticals, taking a class or two during the course of her studies but never learning beyond the basics. After reaching for a small device, she turned it on and it whirred to life. A moment later, she pulled open its side tray and spilled the contents of one of the capsules onto it before closing it shut again and pressing a button. The screen then read Analyzing...

"It shouldn't take long now," Alana looked up at Cal to let him know.

While the doc started her work in earnest, Cal had drifted toward another crate, removed the strap and followed Alana’s lead, flipping a pocket knife open to extract what was inside a slender box. His brow arched in unbelief as he held the bottle up against the bulkhead lights, shaking the contents lightly.

“Wo Bu Shin Wo Dah Yan Jing, somethin’ tells me these little blue pills ain’t for musterin’ courage.” (I don’t believe my eyes), he jeered, meeting her eyes. He placed the container beside Alana and her instruments with a wink as he craned his neck to watch the screen’s output.

It wasn't long before the blank screen was replaced by descriptive imagery of some chemical structure, and right below, its name: Trypoxin.

“Oh... Have you heard of this one?” she turned to Cal after reading the screen. "A stimulant with incredible analgesic properties. That’s why many claim it to be a favorite.” Alana pressed a button to reset, pulling out the tray to wipe its contents with a cleaning cloth tucked away in the back of the device.

“Time to confirm whether they’re loyal to the Pox.” She reached for the bottle that had been placed down in order to repeat the process again.

Cal leaned in to read the word 'Trypoxin' on the screen. "Can't say I have" came his stern reply, "But I ain't bewildered," he added crossing his arms behind her.

Stroking his chin, Strand's eyes fell over the rest of the cargo, then came to rest on Alana's crouched form. The doc just confirmed two things he'd suspected: Hafez's toothy grin had hid the particulars for the job, and this Huen Dahn Root was the consequence. (bastard)

The Captain tapped his foot impatiently as the Doc did her work.

"I figured as much," she motioned towards the screen when it showed the same results. "Up to you whether we run a third test, but I believe we got a shipment full o' Trypoxin." Alana pulled herself to her feet, looking over at Cal. "People have killed for this, we gotta be careful."

“Thanks Doc,” Cal was rubbing his chin, “‘cuz of you we know just how careful to be.” He nodded, meeting her eyes. “No tellin’ what we’ll find on Osiris, and I need every barrel we got. You got a gun, Alana?” His expression pulled down as he looked up into her eyes.

"Can't say I do," she shook her head with an almost guilty expression. "Got a spare? I'm not too bad of a shot, and Abby could use whatever help comes her way.”

“S’long as you don’t shoot me in the back, I could use the backup. Heard Hook is givin’ lessons if you’re keen.” He tucked his hat around his ears, shooting a glance toward the fore of the China Doll. “Here,” he pulled his pistol, flipping the handle toward Alana before handing it to her. “I’ll want this back now, y’hear?”

Her expression finally softened as she reached for the pistol. "I won't shoot you in the back, I'd do it while you watch," was her failed comedic attempt at a comeback, though she was quick to change the pace. "I can aim and pull a trigger, but I'll see what else Hook can teach me. I'm sure he has plenty tips to turn me into a somewhat decent marksman."

Cal gave a nod to the doc before ascending the stairs toward the cockpit.

Alana tucked the pistol into her waistline as she watched Cal walk off before also turning away. She would tidy up the area and put up the small clutter that was left out from the tests.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Bad News to Come

Wide awake as she was, Alana was looking to rest a little while longer. Not that she’d get any sleep as she was more interested in putting her feet up before handling any more responsibilities. At least, that was the plan prior to being called down to the galley. Her curiosity piqued, she wondered what type of pressing matters had Rex sounding all serious and authoritative. She supposed she’d find out soon enough.

With a small groan, the woman rolled onto her side and propped herself up into a sitting position. She then bent down to pick up one shoe with as much enthusiasm as a child walking into their least favorite class. She’d had plenty of water up to that point—which usually got the job done—yet the looming sense of sickness which came in waves every so often was still driving her mad. Alana had somehow managed to avoid that panicked rush to the nearest waste receptacle up to that point, but that was probably due to her being distracted from finding Hook all banged up. What better time than now though to take her own advice and fight fire with fire. She had 15 minutes, so a pit stop to the infirmary would almost make her brand new, especially since she had enough of the supply in stock.

Once the left shoe was on, she grabbed the right one to repeat the process before she was heading out her quarters. The moment she stepped outside, Alana’s eyes darted back and forth. It was quiet, unusually so, especially after such an announcement. She stood in place for a moment then made her way to the infirmary, coming to the conclusion that they were moving slow as sloth, and rightfully so given the events from the previous evening.

Once behind closed doors, for the sake of her own privacy, she sat down and rubbed her eyes, her head angled back to be supported by the bulkhead. Alana was getting a little worried now. She hadn’t yet seen Cal and usually he was the one to make one of these all-hands calls, unless he had busied himself with something so early in the morning but then again, whatever matter had prompted the urgent request would have taken precedence. The young woman sighed, opening the small packaging before gulping down the two tablets with some more water and then proceeding to leave again.

On the way, Alana heard some clanking noise or the other, but it might as well have fallen on deaf ears. Such noises weren’t the least bit uncommon given the ship life, so it certainly didn’t interest her. She did however perk up when the smell of bacon finally hit her as she entered the galley. Quite inviting, yet sadly enough it sat unattended for whatever reason. Alana decided to instead grab a granola bar before finding a seat opposite the stove, the smell of bacon still lingering in the air.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A Stitch in Time

Day 2 Morning

Collaborative post with @sail3695

---

Good day, so far.

She slept like a babe in arms. This mornin’ she give Cap’n the news Ms. Wyman decided to stay on fer the next run. In return, Cap’n paid out her share from the fish haul, a nice lump ‘o’ coin jinglin’ in ‘er pocket. Abby promised herself she’d put some aside this time…start savin’ up…fer what, she didn’t know. Aunt Lupe weren’t no help on that’n. Jest the same, she’d git in the habit.

Mornin’ chores was done, light work since it’s just laundry an’ cleanin’ the room what the Perfessor used. She couldn’t ride the chair yet, seein’s they didn’t know where they’s goin’. Rumor said Cap’n had a line on a job. He an’ Pen was gon’ scope it out this afternoon. Perfect time fer Abby tah slip off tah find a pair ‘o’ them Wailin’ Yutes Isaac spoke well of.

Well, mebbe after she mopped the upper deck…first thing’s first. Time fer her stitches tah be pulled. Abby’s all kindsa careful with ’em, keepin’ tha area dry an’ clean, takin’ sink baths an’ only stickin’ ‘er head ‘neath the shower jets tah wash ‘er hair. She weren’t sore no more, an’ the limpin’ done ceased altogether. But them stitches give ‘er a powerful itch now and agin. She kep ‘er hands off, but sometimes when folk weren’t lookin, she’d run ‘er backside up an’ down a wall, trick she learned from a capture showin’ a bear backscratchin’ on a tree trunk.

She went by the passenger lounge on her way to medbay, an’ her orchid drawin’. Think I’ll leave it fer a spell, Abby smiled tah herself as she stopped to knock. “Mornin, Doc?” she asked. Think I can get muh stitches yanked out tahday?”

Alana peered over her shoulder with an arched brow at the unexpected visitor. She swiveled around to face Abby once the face matched the voice as she had been too distracted to recognize her initially. "Morning, Abby. Come on in and let's have a look," she added with a smile as she got to her feet to gather some supplies. Alana figured given the number of days and the size of the wound, there shouldn't be any concerns removing the stitches.

"Let's have you changed up, shall we?" She handed a paper gown to the girl, then started heading for the exit. "I'll be just outside, let me know when you're done."

Abby never conjured doctors an’ their ways. She figgered her denims an’ unders was like tah drop round her ankles as she bent over tha exam table tah get them stitches snipped. But now she’s strippin’ everthin’ off fer one ‘o’ them open backed gowns. Uncle Bob used tah say “they do all kindsa stuff tah raise tha bill,” but that didn’t make no sense now. With a shrug, the girl yanked it all off.

Somethin else she found funny was ‘er own modesty. The ‘buck nekkid’ part didn’t ruffle her a’tall. Doc already seen ‘er an they both had girl parts. But when she caught herself tuckin’ her unders away, Abby chuckled over such foolishness. After all, she’s perty certain the doc seen them afore, too.

Soon’s she got the gown on proper, Abby called out fer Alana. “All ready, Doc!”

"All ready you are," Alana announced reentering the infirmary. "Thought you might be a tinge more comfortable despite the already simple procedure. Up you go, same spot as before."

After locking the med bay doors to allow their privacy, Alana went on to ease the girl's mind in case she held any concerns for whatever reason. "You'll be in and out quick, and you'll be itching a lot less if that was bothering you before. I trust you kept warm for most of the ride?" The doctor went on to collect a suture removal kit as well as some additional gauze reserved for possible bleeding. Sometimes the wound site wasn't closed all the way despite looking otherwise. After placing the items within arm's reach near Abby, she began gloving up.

Abby hopped onta the table, lyin’ on ‘er stomach an’ propped up on ‘er elbows. “Spot did itch a might, but I kept from scratchin’ at it,” she said. The deckhand give a nod tah the doc’s next question. “Spent part ‘o’ tha night in the Skyes’ shuttle. Rest ‘o’ the time I’s down here with the passengers. Got tah help that scientist…Perfessor Marquina? Kept warm by keepin’ muhself movin’ all night.” She glanced over her shoulder. “How bout yew?”

“Oh you know, just looking after our patient. The shuttle was warm so I was warm,” she smiled, working her hand into each latex glove and flexing her fingers in to get the comfortable, tight fit. “Ain’t done much other than that, but the warm clothes sure worked wonders.” Alana then shone a light over Abby’s behind, examining the stitches. “This is looking good, I say we can proceed with no issue. The captain didn’t work you too hard, right? I’ll get on his case if he didn’t let you get the proper amount of rest."

The girl shook ‘er head. “Cap’n always treats me right,” she said. “Got plenty rest….’cept fer tha cold run. Made up fer it last night…I’s out like a light afore twenty-one hunnerd.”

"Happy to hear, looks like I won't have to chastise him after all..." As Alana went on, she reached for the solution to clean the wound prior to the suture removal. "But ya know, I did hear from a little birdie—and it wasn't Rex's—that you snuck off on one of those nights you were supposed to be resting." Despite no distinctive tone behind the statement, Alana was smiling slightly as she was going about teasing Abby.

When she might ruminate on this sometime later, Abby’d conjure it was good she’s layin’ on ‘er stomach so the Doc couldn’t see her face go all flushy. “Um….uh,” she stammered, her mouth hung open. Who’s the birdie? Pen? Most like, no. She conjured the pilot’s a good one fer keepin’ secrets. The Cap’n? Yeah, that one had a ring. Word’s floatin’ ‘round that the Cap’n an’ the Doc was thick as thieves of late. Pillow talk? she pondered. Didn’t matter now. Her super spy sensei said perty much same’s she’s thinkin’.

”Honesty is the best policy, but only when served in bite sized chunks.”

Cap’n knew ever’thin’, and he knocked her house ‘o’ cards right down. Question was, how much did ‘e tell the doc? She’s gon’ have tah white knuckle ‘er way through this’un…

Abby took a breath, tryin’ tah stop herself from tensin’ up. “Wouldn’t call it…well…um…yes, ma’am,” she finally give in.

The poor girl...Abby was all but shaking right where she lay, stuttering her words as if she'd been caught red-handed, which in a way she had. Alana opened the package containing the smaller pair of forceps and scissors, setting those up to remove the first suture.

"The way I conjured, you either went out for business or pleasure. Seeing as the mighty captain refrained from assigning you any labor as to not disturb the most critical phase of your recovery, then it's safe to assume you were out for pleasure..."

Alana was mostly speaking the truth with her statement, though Abby could have been out for any one number of reasons. Of course, the fun was in dragging a confession out of her.

“It sorta become both,” the teenager ‘fessed up. “But I’s off muh feet jest ‘bout tha whole night…’cept fer when I’s puttin’ on clothes…” She stopped. Don’t think that coulda sounded no worse, Abby chided ‘erself. “Needed new denims…an’ unders…” she stammered. This is why Cap’n makes air quotes when he says I’m goin’ clothes shoppin’, she thought.

The sharp edges practically hugged either side of the suture prior to her actually cutting it. Alana turned to stare at Abby, mildly shocked by her bold statement. Of course, the excuse which followed was none the better. “Hey, I’m no one to question how you spend your time off. We all get the same urge...that’s what makes us human.” Alana resumed her work, pulling the thread aside before moving on the next. “I took some courses in women’s health, if ya ever have one of those questions...”

Alana went about the conversation casually, but inside she was beaming with pride as if Abby was her own blood. No girl at such a young age as hers should work away their youth without a little bit of fun here and there.

Questions was all Abby had. She’s positive ‘er face had tah be beat red jest now. Girl near bit ‘er tongue tah keep from blurtin’ out the truth she ain’ never done…it. Now they’s more folk think she’s out sewin’ oats ain’t yet growed…but wait. Mebbe…mebbe…

”Let them leap to their own conclusions. When you’re a spy, the misperceptions of those around you can be your greatest asset.”

But she weren’t no spy. Might never cross paths with Browncoats agin’. And the only fella she conjured bein’ with in that way was back on New Melbourne with jest one ‘o’ her kisses on his lips. Could make a body right frustrated, it could.

“Um…” she swallowed. “Thank yew, doc.” Best not tah keep runnin’ her mouth, afore she talks ‘erself right inta trouble.

"Anytime, Abby. I'm only looking out for you is all...us girls gotta stick together in the big nothingness out there." She cut another suture, and was just about done clearing them out at that point. Of course, the most critical lesson had yet to be communicated, despite it piling on to her patient's embarrassment. "Just remember next time you've got an itch to scratch, don't go sneaking out of the Doll while you've been given the order to rest. Promise?"

“Promise,” Abby nodded. She turned ‘er head tah look back over her shoulder. “An’ I’m powerful sorry. Truly I am.”

“No need to go feeling sorry for a thing...I was simply making sure you’d heal up nicely. Judging by how easy these are coming off, I’d say the mission was achieved.”

Alana cut and removed the last small piece, pausing for a second to look at the result. Sure, her bum was a bit red, but that was normal.

No pain. Abby felt the doc’s touch. Her fingers was warm enough, but the snippers she used raised goosebumps as they worked. A few tugs, an’ suddenly it was all over. “I feel fine,” she agreed. “Stopped limpin’ an’ feelin’ sore that night in tha black.”

It’s then tha question come. She pondered askin’ it. Ain’t never one tah tip ‘er hat tah vanity afore, but…things changed since New Melbourne. Still, with folk thinkin’ she’s out tomcattin’ ever’ Thomas, Dick’ an’ Harry while they’s in port, she worried that just askin’ might spark more knowin’ smiles an’ air quotes ‘bout her doin’s. The spy game was fun, but now she’s…

”Sometimes, a bad reputation can be a good thing.”

That give ‘er somethin’ new tah chew on, not tah mention conjurin’ jest how silly she’s bein’ over such a little worry. A smile crept onta her face as a song she liked just kinda locked ruth inta part ‘o’ her brain.

Hider

With them two votes behind ‘er, Abby cleared ‘er throat an’ spoke up. “Hey doc,” she said. “Cap’n says I might have a scar. Will it stop me wearin’ a bikini?”

She let escape an involuntarily chuckle at the girl’s question. “The captain says a lot of things...” Alana added with a subtle eye roll and head shake, that which was accompanied with a half-smile knowing Cal was the type to say such things. “You’ll be fine wearing a bikini... In fact, a scar will draw the attention of the boys to your pi gu, and now you have an awesome story to tell!”

Her enthusiasm carried over into giving Abby's cheek one last wipe to make it free of sutures or debris. "You're all set... Now you're ready to finally get that tan."

Abby thought on that fer a spell. She ain’t ever wore a bikini. Never had much call to. But she never knew when Cap’n might land ‘em a run back tah New Melbourne. Thomas…she didn’t even know if he’d wanna see her done up like that. But it weren’t til she commenced thinkin’ ‘bout him that she ever give much thought tah her looks. “Shiny,” the girl furrowed ‘er brow as new thoughts crossed. “Thank yew, Doc. Might git out an’ get tha tan right while we’re here.” She sat up on tha table afore droppin’ tah her feet. “But first? I’m takin’ a long, hot shower!”

Looks like Abby wasn't all work and no play after all. Alana was glad for the girl, getting herself a little R & R would do her good, whenever that was to happen. Maybe she would tag along too and keep her company. "Well, go on and wash up now, I'll leave you to change then come back and tidy up later. See you around!"

And with that, she left Abby to her own devices as she went off to the galley to grab a snack, tossing the gloves on the way out and closing the door behind her.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

His lips followed the line of her shoulder with gentle kisses while her hands traced the planes of his back. Each muscle tensed as her fingers played along his spine, fiercely butterflied by the symmetrical carving of his ribs. As his kisses claimed the nape of her neck, S.A.M.N.T.H.A. exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding in. Her arms enclosed the small of his back, pulling him toward her.

"Come away with me, Cal" she breathed into his hair, "Let me take you away from all of this."

"Darlin'," his hands lightly caressed her thighs before meeting at the small of her back, "you know I can't do that." Cal's tone was playful, encouraging, even.

Even if departing the lifestyle of being a Companion crossed his mind, to leave it for Sam would be complicated, no matter the complex feelings he harbored for her. The living, breathing flesh in his embrace now was simply a conduit for the... person... he knew as Sam. A body on loan for tonight. Another hired actor in the entertainment this evening.

"I know," Sam's tone was still hopeful, "it's just that this feels..." she paused to find his eyes, "special." No matter how many times she met with him through different eyes, that look he gave her never changed--never faded. To her, Calvin Booth Strand was at once her savior and paramour. If he hadn't removed her from Alliance control, she would never have built the peace she had built, used the profits for the betterment of the 'Verse, grown so fond of the man who made it possible... All of this was possible because one night, on a job with a client, Cal had decided his coat was more Brown than Purple.

His hazel eyes stared back into hers, "It does," his thumb came to rest on her cheek, tracing the outline of her temple. Drawing her in, his lips met hers, their eyes closing to allow the multiple points of contact throughout their bodies to alight.

Their kisses intensified as the pair lay back on the soft bed sheets in Cal's shuttle. The decor of modern angular furniture was accented by warm lighting and calming impressionist works from the masters. Feodore's 'Beach at Sunset' painted with only pallet knife, hung above the occupied bed--its broad streaks of stippled red, blue, and yellow evoking the gamut of emotions of which Sam and Cal succumbed.

Her hands found purchase on his shoulder blades as Cal hung above her. His body closed the gap between them and his lips sought out her suprasternal notch. She noted the feeling of their skin--like soft silk--as subtle motions began their play between them. Her eyes met his, a look of alarming warmth staring back at her.

Suddenly, everything went loud--red painted over the entire room as the pair moved in tandem.

Only it wasn't the heat of the moment that shot red light across the room, but the warning alarm which sat above the shuttle door. The Phoenix station to which he'd docked must have thrown the panic alarm, which menaced the pair as their sight returned among the sheets of Cal's bed.

Sam was the first to respond, "Red light..." to her memory of station internals, having written much of the safety code for this one herself, she knew that could only mean one thing. "We have to go, now." Gone was the soft and pleading tone she employed just moments ago; now, the cold steel of her eyes trained upon the flashing red light and the image it heralded.

Her elbow ducked from beneath Cal, his arm extricating his hold of Sam as he rolled away. In moments Sam was pulling on her black slacks and peacock-green blouse, a calm hand lashing on her gun belt.

"What does it mean," Cal asked, his eyes beginning to narrow as he followed her lead and began getting dressed.

With one look over her shoulder, she let the word slip without meeting his eye.

"Reavers."

@wanderingwolf

Alana would like a word with Cal...

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Discharge

Collaborative post with @sail3695

---

It wasn’t until the landing that Alana breathed a small sigh of relief. The young woman unstrapped herself, noting she needed to pay Yuri a visit. Gauging from experience, Alana would say he’d make a quick recovery. That of course stemmed from the fact that he was young and held a physically-demanding job, or at least she assumed it to be as such.

Not sparing a moment for conversation, the doctor set off to get some vitals from their newcomer. She was in a good mood, the best it’s been in quite some time. Her giveaway was the slight spring in her step, that which was done subconsciously of course. Alana hadn’t necessarily told anyone yet, but she was genuinely excited to be in Greenleaf.

In the shuttle, Yuri unbuckled himself before slowly rising to his feet. His entire body felt sore; every muscle complained of a lingering stiffness. Though the doctor’s IV and the shuttle heaters had eventually removed the chill from his bones, he felt much older than his twenty-eight years. Wonder how I’ll feel tonight, he thought, after the company has hold of me.

A gentle knock sounded, followed by the mild hiss of equalizing air pressure from the opening hatch. As the doctor entered, Yuri could still feel a slight chill to the air, but he conjured that would be gone as soon as the crew cycled all the vents. Dr. Lysanger projected a buoyancy of spirit as she stepped into the shuttle. “Hello, Doctor,” Yuri gave her a smile. “I think I’m ready to go.”

Her brow furrowed, the expression on her face now a mildly worried one. “Yuri, we’re going to be here for a few days, and you’ve got some ways to go on your recovery.” She walked over to him as she communicated her concern, eventually pushing the bedsheets to the side to get him to sit. “I highly recommend you stay with us, at least another day or two to make sure you’re right on track.”

Alana first checked his head wound after gently removing the bandage, and it was looking as good as it could healing up. She wondered about his decision to leave so quickly, immediately after the landing at that. Work? Family? Whatever the case, his rushed departure may needlessly create some complications if he were to be careless in any way.

He did as she instructed, sitting down for the doctor’s careful evaluation. Yuri tilted his head to permit the bandage’s easy removal. He lifted his shirt for the cold touch of the stethoscope, and for the much warmer hands of the doctor as she tended the more serious wounds. “My company is sending people for me,” he offered a bit ruefully. “They’re frantic to know what happened to the ship. I’m certain they’ve got a doctor waiting for me.”

A soft smile spread across her lips. “As long as you’re under the care of someone, then I’m more than okay signing off on your release" Work politics. She’d been there a few times herself, and more often than not it was a less than pleasant experience. “I’ll be giving you some medication for the pain and also a summary of your case to pass on to the next doctor.” His vitals were good, and Alana also checked his pupils to cross off any lingering effects from the concussion. There wasn’t any specific reason he couldn’t leave, from a medical standpoint at least, she just hoped they were going to provide the treatment he needed for his recovery.

“I’m going to patch you up and make sure you’re good to go. Does that sound good to you?"

The young mechanic responded with a smile. “It does,” he gave a nod. As the Doctor set to her work, he asked, “How long are you staying on Greenleaf? I’d like to show my appreciation to the captain and crew.”

She walked over to the space behind her to get some gauze and bandages. “Four days is what they said, so enough time to enjoy ourselves here for a little bit before we’re back in the black.” Alana made her way to Yuri’s side once more to dress his head wound prior to working on the rest. “I’m sure you can catch the captain running around out unloading all that tuna,” Alana went on, unable to keep herself from giggling at the thought.

The doctor’s mood was infectious. From the moment of his rescue, she’d always been a gentle, calming influence. Now, to see her sense of humor threatening to escape the trained medical countenance, Yuri felt a pang of regret at the thought of leaving. Abby did say they were hiring a mechanic, he mused, before quickly dashing the notion for the fantasy it was. Ogilvy-Norton was likely to keep him on a very short leash until all the legalese surrounding the Mick’s sinking were put to bed. But I could, the fleeting desire asserted itself once again. Just fly away…into the black.

As she continued to work in silence, Alana pondered how she would keep busy with the upcoming shore leave. Yuri's rescue and subsequent transport had distracted her from solidifying any form of plan, though the lack of forethought held no urgency in her mind. Given they would be in temperatures much more forgiving than they’d been dealt with en route to Greenleaf, Alana thought about acquiring some clothes proper for the weather. Maybe a nice sundress and sandals to pair it off. It’d been a while since she dressed up, and when opportunity calls...

“Well, that just about does it. Your bandages have been replaced and it’s looking like you don’t have to be confined to this shuttle any more. How’s your arm, any more sore than before?"

He glanced down upon the arm, firmly bound and supported by the sling. “It hurts a bit, but not intolerable. Honestly,” he added, “I think the tight wrapping actually makes it feel better.” I could just take off. The idea waved before him, tantalizing in it’s possibilities. The cortex is still claiming ‘no survivors’.... But no. The idea of crossing Ogilvy-Norton at this point wasn’t that much of a concern. But to back out on Adelai Niska? Knowing the man’s temperament, Yuri was convinced that such a decision would be a huge mistake. Most likely, his last. “Dr. Lysanger,” Yuri adopted a smile, “I really hope to meet you again. You’ve been so kind.”

“Please, no need to thank me—I was simply doing my job.” Alana shot him a quick smile before she went for the pain medication she had promised him before as well as his profile. “I’m hoping the next time we meet it’ll be under better circumstances.”

A moment later, she returned with the items, handing those off to him. “If there are questions of any kind, my information is on here. Take care of yourself, Yuri, though I’m more than confident you'll make a quick recovery.”

The two said their final goodbyes before parting ways. Once Yuri stepped out, Alana decided to clean and organize the shuttle back to its original state. She would start by sterilizing the areas that needed attention, then work her way from there.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Healing Wounds & Restoring Health

Collaborative post with @sail3695

---

Her patient had been prepped accordingly upon their arrival to the shuttle. Prior to the new cast replacing the temporary one, Alana had administered warmed IV fluids given the advanced case of hypothermia. She had also tended to his wounds and had him go through various scans to rule out any further serious injuries. Given the concussion he had suffered, Alana would remain within reach until she could talk to him, only leaving his side once he was in a stabilized condition so she could dry off and change into warmer attire.

Alana would occasionally glance over at the man to see whether he was lucid in any form. It was then she noticed him moving his arm as if to touch his head. Alana got to her feet and quickly walked over. "Hey, I'm gonna advise against that. Don't worry, you're safe with us now." Once she was standing over him, she gently guided his arm back down to rest by his side. "You were rescued from the shipwreck, do you recall?" Alana stared down at him, watching his expression to gauge his ability to comprehend what she was saying.

Yuri couldn’t stop trembling, held in the icy clutches of a cold which seemed to come from within his core. Consciousness was a slow process, another act of surfacing to perform...if that’s what he did. Life aboard the Mick was never quiet; his shipboard quarters were nestled between the massive turbines whose reactor fed humming was a simple fact of life. But this place was almost silent. There was no sense of momentum, nor the sluggish roll of a great ship weathering heavy seas.

"You were rescued from the shipwreck, do you recall?"

“No...that’s wrong. I…” His brow furrowed. He’d been up at the stern rail, talking with Chief Edwards...wait. The reactor. He was shutting it down, hand cranking each rod to full insertion. Things tilted...that couldn’t be right. He wouldn’t scram it while they were still at sea, unless...wait. There was a storm...

The woman above him shifted, her hair flashing gold in the overhead light. Yuri gave a start; he remembered her! Here was was his savior, one of the angels who’d descended from a dream...he was certain he’d hallucinated...or dreamt it. But no...the clothing beneath her white smock was soaking wet. She and a man...they’d lifted him from a terrible sea… So…it wasn’t a dream. He squinted beneath the light, taking in the sight of her with new eyes. She was a medic? Aboard...what?

Memories that had been dashed to tiny scraps were coming together, their patchwork incomplete. Yuri fought to achieve the elusive ‘here and now’ amid the wreckage. “Shipwreck? Is that what happened, Doctor?”

Getting the response she feared, Alana broke her gaze for a moment, attempting to find the right words to communicate the tragedy. His eyes not fixated on any one single thing, it was obvious to Alana that the poor guy was trying to piece together what had occurred.

"That much is right, your ship is gone," she responded, staring at him once more with her voice barely above a whisper. In the past, she's learned that her job could get exhausting in more ways than one because not only did she have to deal with the sick and injured on a regular basis, but she had to play that awful role where she delivered some bad news. And then there was the fact that every once in a while, the recipient did not take kindly to such news and took it out on her and whatever other poor soul was standing in their vicinity. Fortunately, that wasn't the case here, though that didn't mean it made the job any easier.

"I'm awfully sorry, please, if there's anything that I can do, just ask..." Alana would allow him whatever space he needed to deal with the news if he so requested it. She wasn't sure whom he had aboard the ship with him—family, friends, a significant other... and given everybody grieved in their own way, the least she could do was afford him such courtesy.

He listened; her words landed on his conscious mind like a bond, pulling together disparate images and bits of memory. The patchwork they presented was by no means complete, but as the Doctor spoke, he felt the deep recognition of truth in her answer.

Yuri glanced downward, more to avert his eyes. His left arm was bound; he must’ve broken it somewhere along the way. Perhaps the cold numbed...the cold. The raft. It had been the Mick’s crew dining table. He saw nothing more of his body, wrapped as it was in warming blankets...his hands had withered to claws in the icy torrent...the Mick on her death plunge...ear splitting pressure...must’ve blown the reactor vent hatch and sucked him into the sea..

“Yes,” Yuri nodded his head in acceptance. “Yes….we were taking water. The pumps couldn’t keep up…” His eyes lifted. “I was in the ocean, until the Firefly…” The mechanic’s eyes glistened. “Found me. You found me.” The gratitude in his gaze held firmly, until his struggling mind grasped the deeper implications. Yuri glanced about. The space was odd for a medical suite. Equipment racks, some deck bolted seating...and flight controls. A shuttle, and light duty by the looks of it. “Did the rest get out?” He turned to the doctor again. “How many survived?”

A half-smile for a moment followed by a solemn expression. She briefly looked over at the screen above her patient’s head. He was still medicated, though the dosage was wearing off as made evident when he woke up a few moments ago. “Unfortunately, we didn’t find anyone else, but I can’t say with certainty whether they... I can’t say whether they survived or not because I’m not sure. The storm gave us quite a challenge while we were working to rescue you, but we didn’t pick up anyone else.”

Alana gave him a moment then went on with her speech. “When we found you, you were rambling on incomprehensibly. You suffered a concussion and an extreme case of hypothermia. You also have a broken arm and various minor injuries which have all been addressed in order to get you stabilized.”

Giving him a moment to take it all in, Alana gazed down at the cast on his arm. “I’m sorry, I wish I had better news for you at this time."

Though Yuri had to squint upward, he didn’t need an explanation to understand the magnitude of loss. A subtle stiffening, a change in tone were cues by which anyone might comprehend that which people were reluctant to say. He knew it. He knew it from the moment he’d burst to the surface. The angry waves hadn’t been littered with the flickering lights of life vests. He hadn’t heard a cry for help, seen another soul, or even a body. Though someone might’ve gotten out, he now faced the reality of memory crashing swiftly into place. The Mick had plunged, rapidly, to her end. Most likely, all hands were still with her. As he should’ve been, but for a lucky fluke of science.

“I’m alive,” he eventually replied. “Without you, I wouldn’t be. I think that’s as good as it gets.”

“Not to be the type but that’s the best way to look at it,” she responded, nodding slightly. “You’re currently aboard the China Doll in one of the shuttles. We moved you here to keep you warm due to some of the cargo needing to be kept at a certain temperature far too cold for any of us to comfortably sit in.”

Alana thought about Hook for a moment, noting she should at least check in on him to make sure he was okay.

"I’m sorry, I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Alana Lysanger, the ship’s medic. Both myself and Hook were the ones to pull you out of the water. Joe Hooker is our cook and also a deckhand, you’ll meet him soon, as well as Captain Strand and the rest of the crew and passengers."

“Yuri Antonov,” he offered his right hand. “I don’t think I can ever repay you all for this, Dr. Lysanger. I’ll look forward to meeting your cook, and shaking his hand. Your captain, also.” The survivor laid back on his stretcher. “Can you tell me where you’re taking me?”

She shook his hand in return, exchanging quick pleasantries before responding to his question. "We're off to Greenleaf, shouldn't be too long from what I heard. Would you like something to eat or drink? Perhaps a warm tea?"

He could still feel the cold embedded deep within, a burrowing parasite that refused to be dislodged. Yuri’s right hand clutched the side rail. Taking care for the IV tube dangling from his forearm, he slowly pulled himself to sitting position. “Yes,” he smiled weakly as first one leg, then the next, moved to dangle over the stretcher’s edge. “Warm tea sounds fantastic.”

Thus began his self examination. The left arm, bound as it was, hung in a fabric sling draped round his neck. The pressure of rising set his head to throbbing, the location matching a bandage taped to his forehead. He blinked, and was rewarded with both eyes reacting. A tightness across a shoulder blade announced another bandage. As Yuri glanced down his chest, he took note of three more. The sight of two legs extending from the sheet around his waist came as good news, made all the better by ten toes that wiggled on command. “Banged up,” the mechanic delivered his assessment, “but all in one piece.”

She smiled; at least he was in good spirits.
Alana had watched as Yuri worked to sit himself up. She would have offered a hand but figured he was fine helping himself. The extent of his injuries would not have prevented him from getting up and she didn't want to impose unless he hurt himself in the process and needed her help.

"One tea coming right up!"

With that, she walked away from her patient, leaving the shuttle and the warmth it provided. Alana closed shut the door behind her, the sudden drop in temperature making her shiver involuntarily, and that was enough to get her to pick up her step on the way towards the galley.

Once there, she greeted Cyd and Penelope who just so happened to be in the galley as well and informed them she too was getting some tea. Alana figured she would bring back some flavored tea just in case the taste of the ocean lingered in Yuri's mouth. Alana had learned some time ago that someone's sense of smell had the strongest link to memory and emotion, and since smell and taste were entwined, maybe the cup of tea would bring more comfort than intended.

A short time later, Alana returned with the kettle in one hand and two cups in the other. She would join him momentarily before leaving him be to get some rest, unless of course Cal wanted to have a word with him now that he was up.

Greenleaf, Yuri considered. His ship was on the bottom. By now, the NMMP would have search and rescue vessels on the scene. He should reach out, let them know he was alive. They’d likely find it odd that a survivor was offworld instead of being delivered to local authorities. But that was out of his control. Instead, he thought to contact his employers. They could handle the details, offer him further instructions.

His reverie ended as the doctor returned with tea. By the looks of things, she’d be joining him, a thought that Yuri found cheering. Now awakened and somewhat trusting of his senses, he found her pleasant nature and the warmth of her smile to be a comfort. Thank you,” he accepted the offered cup Wrapping his hands around the little vessel, he took a swallow and luxuriated in the heat which travelled down to his core. “It’s good,” the young man smiled his gratitude. “Doctor, is it possible for me to send a wave to my ship’s owners? I’m sure they'll have questions for any survivors.”

After pouring some tea for Yuri, Alana did the same for herself. She took a moment as she brought the cup up near her face, watching the steam rise as if it were dancing before bringing the cup to her lips. The liquid was quite hot, and so she took a little sip followed by another. Her hands had warmed and Alana was enjoying the moment for the time being before she had to be out in the cold again.

The tea was indeed good, As Yuri had pointed out. She hadn't tried this one yet while aboard the ship but it may very well be her new favorite.

"Doctor, is it possible for me to send a wave to my ship's owners? I'm sure they'll have questions for any survivors."

Looking up, Alana met his gaze. “Yeah, I don't see why not.” Alana took another sip, longer this time, as she rose to her feet to fetch the cortex for Yuri.

“Please,” Yuri lifted a hand. “There’s no rush. I’m pretty sure they think I’m dead right now.” A thin smile touched the corners of his mouth. “My resurrection can wait while you enjoy your tea.” One by one, the final pieces of his memory knitted themselves into place, and Yuri now understood that but for a happy accident of physics, he’d be lying in his grave at the bottom of an ocean far from home. The peace of this moment, shared with such a lovely person as the doctor, still seemed illusory. While awaiting death on the tortuous sea, he’d first thought her heaven sent, along with a man he had yet to formally thank. While the dull ache of a fractured arm and apparent concussion reminded him of his corporeal nature, this bit of quietude still gave him to wonder at the definitions of heaven versus the hot place. That he should be so fortunate as to sit here, sipping tea with a guardian angel, was a fate both surrealistic and undeserved.

Despite the feeling of loss which slowly settled into his bones, Yuri Antonov smiled into his cup.

Chuckling at Yuri's comment, Alana sat back down, both her hands wrapping around the cup. "I'm sure they'll be surprised to hear from you regardless of whether you reach out to them now or later." She took another sip, unsure of how to proceed with a conversation fearing she might bring about an unpleasant thought.
-----
Some time passed before the two finished whatever tea remained on their cup. Alana broke the silence, looking up at Yuri. "Can't beat a good cup of tea... Anyway," she went on, getting back on her feet to clean up, "I'll leave you to your privacy now but I'll let the captain know you're stable and resting. He's a tad...unpredictable therefore I have to warn you that he may pop in unannounced," she shrugged, followed by an apologetic smile. " He may be unpredictable but he's a decent man, so you're in good hands."

Alana reached for his empty cup, trading it for her cortex. "Here you go, as requested," she handed off the device to Yuri before grabbing what she needed to head out. "I'll be checking on you periodically to make sure your vitals are good, and in a while I'll bring you something to eat. Do you need anything else before I leave?"

He accepted the little device. “Thanks, Doctor. Short of getting my clothes back, I can’t think of a thing.” After a grateful nod, Yuri’s eyes followed the healer as she made her way through the shuttle’s hatch. A sudden cold blast of air entered the shuttle, loosing a deep shiver from his core. Odd, he thought. Could their cabin heat be out? He’d ask the doctor, or perhaps the captain. But now, there was a final duty owed his ship. Yuri tapped the contact code for the corporate offices of Ogilvy-Norton.