Morning (maybe it was morning, who really knew any more) found Kaylee tucked quietly away in her hammock in Serenity’s engine room. It was easier to think here, in her own little corner of the world. She found focus alongside the ship’s engine, and that was what she really needed right now. Focus.

There was a lot to think about. Old memories, plans, feelings. There were new memories now, too, that only served to amplify the old. Forgetting Early for that short time hadn’t been so bad, and even now she wished it was a moment that had stayed gone, but losing her memories of her ship... It hadn’t been troubling at the time, of course it hadn’t. Now, though, thinking about it? About how worried people had been, and the sheer amount of time she had lost to something so small as a clock chime. This was definitely a Stacy Event that Kaylee never wanted to revisit.

She had spent days thinking about it, hours wasted in trying to sort things out while she hid in that hammock, and decisions had to be made. There were feelings and memories now, so fresh in her mind, that she had to make a decision, had to sort things out now before they got too sticky and complicated later. It tore her apart to make them, but with rocks in her stomach and her heart in her throat Kaylee pushed herself out of the hammock, out of Serenity, down to the city.

This was not going to go over well.

[OOC: Bendytimed to before Cloneplot.]

Eva has decided this hour is designated for special self-indulgence. Having brought back out another lawn chair to the front yard, she now sits with a blanket, a glass of XaXingian wine, and the collection of Clarín's short stories she got from Kang.

Occasionally she waves at a familiar passer-by on the road, but for the most part she's lost in her own little world, filled with one of those too-infrequent senses of satisfaction - especially when the wisteria isn't taking to her garden well and they've finally run out of ice cream to sweeten the coffee. Still, it feels nice to only worry about mundane things that can be set aside for a good story, for once.

Under her breath, she reads some sentences aloud and sings snatches of a Rubén Blades song.

Goliath is still working on that thing where every time he ventures out of his castle to socialize, everyone he knows reminds him that he really ought to get out of his castle and socialize more.

So rather than patrol again, he's taking care of another matter. Bronx needs his exercise. Normally he'd be getting plenty, with criminals to chase and the Trio to play with, but without both of these things, it falls to Goliath to ensure the gargoyle beast stays in good condition.

So out in front of the towering, still slightly damaged castle, a gargoyle and his species' equivalent of a dog are playing fetch. With a heavy steel pipe.

The game is limited to a long, open street, empty in the late hours of the City's dark night. The pipe is already scored with deep marks from Bronx's powerful teeth, and a litter of broken scrap - chain links, and the twisted wreckage of other pipes - surrounds Goliath's feet.

The source of the litter can be seen when Bronx returns from retrieving the makeshift toy, and Goliath grabs it, pitting his strength against Bronx's in a game of tug-of-war. The metal warps and groans under the pressure and suddenly snaps into two twisted pieces, one of which Bronx bounds off with to savage into a crumpled heap. Goliath tosses his half of the destroyed toy aside, and Bronx returns to his master's feet, panting with pride and looking for approval. Goliath kneels down to scratch his family pet behind his large, fanlike ears.

It's good to have at least one member of the clan back.