sickle_stories (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sickle_stories) wrote2007-03-07 12:42 pm
sickle_stories) wrote2007-03-07 12:42 pm
Entry tags:
Firefly: Fic in progress
Just posting this here so I have it in electronic form. Needs major work, but at least it's something.
Walking through Moonshine's smoky [...] towards the bar, Floyd counted the customers, His glance skipping quickly over the three late-night regulars playing dominos and stopping longer on the six others scattered about with their drinks for company. This time he was off by two.
Reaching the bar, he gestured to the short boy drying a clay mug by the register. "Johnny-boy," he called out, "is Macaria about?" The boy of fifteen, so runty he was often mistaken for twelve, slung the rag over his shoulder.
"She's out back in the kitchen, boss."
"Bring her round, would you?" At the boy's hesitation, Floyd added, "I'll keep an eye on the bar, don't you fret none."
When Johnny'd scampered through the door behind the bar that led to the kitchen, Flod walked around the counter and settled on the low barman's stool. Keeping his eyes on the customer's, he slid open a small panel and ran his fingers over the old rifle Bessie'd insisted on bringing along from The Red Barrel. He grunted softly in satisfaction at finding it loaded.
He was examining an unlabeled liquor bottles he'd found beside the rifle when Johnny tugged at his shoulder and pointed behind him. Floyd nodded to Macaria and followed her to a table.
Walking through Moonshine's smoky [...] towards the bar, Floyd counted the customers, His glance skipping quickly over the three late-night regulars playing dominos and stopping longer on the six others scattered about with their drinks for company. This time he was off by two.
Reaching the bar, he gestured to the short boy drying a clay mug by the register. "Johnny-boy," he called out, "is Macaria about?" The boy of fifteen, so runty he was often mistaken for twelve, slung the rag over his shoulder.
"She's out back in the kitchen, boss."
"Bring her round, would you?" At the boy's hesitation, Floyd added, "I'll keep an eye on the bar, don't you fret none."
When Johnny'd scampered through the door behind the bar that led to the kitchen, Flod walked around the counter and settled on the low barman's stool. Keeping his eyes on the customer's, he slid open a small panel and ran his fingers over the old rifle Bessie'd insisted on bringing along from The Red Barrel. He grunted softly in satisfaction at finding it loaded.
He was examining an unlabeled liquor bottles he'd found beside the rifle when Johnny tugged at his shoulder and pointed behind him. Floyd nodded to Macaria and followed her to a table.