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trans_92011-10-12 07:08 pm
pantsaretight.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92011-10-12 07:08 pm
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Scavanging, A Profession Second Only to Smuggling
While Serenity had weathered the last fight amazingly well given she'd been plunged into the midst of a war to devour an entire world, both the damage from the fight, and the Firefly's own advanced age and at times cheaply funded state of repair, meant it was time for Mal to go scrounging for parts for his home.
Of course, there were probably plenty of facilities on Stacy that would have been able to supply him with who knew what futuristic wonders, but given he still had yet to get used to feeling like his clothes were trying to digest him, he wasn't letting any of that biotech crap anywhere near his girl. Of course, that meant he had to go for the alternative, plunging deeper into the City than he had gone before, to find something he could scavenge, preferably without getting shot at by a put out owner. Using the Drunken Dragon as a starting point, he'd made the decision to start out by making his way south, into the areas that had been less well documented by the crew. With any luck, he would be able to find something usable that wasn't claimed by anyone.
Of course, given how his luck usually went, he'd also brought along his gun, just in case. Slinging a large bag for any small portables he might find, he checked his makeshift map and stepped away from the tavern.
"Gonna be a nice simple walk. Find the place, mark it, get out. Nice and simple."
Talking to himself probably wasn't a good sign.
Of course, there were probably plenty of facilities on Stacy that would have been able to supply him with who knew what futuristic wonders, but given he still had yet to get used to feeling like his clothes were trying to digest him, he wasn't letting any of that biotech crap anywhere near his girl. Of course, that meant he had to go for the alternative, plunging deeper into the City than he had gone before, to find something he could scavenge, preferably without getting shot at by a put out owner. Using the Drunken Dragon as a starting point, he'd made the decision to start out by making his way south, into the areas that had been less well documented by the crew. With any luck, he would be able to find something usable that wasn't claimed by anyone.
Of course, given how his luck usually went, he'd also brought along his gun, just in case. Slinging a large bag for any small portables he might find, he checked his makeshift map and stepped away from the tavern.
"Gonna be a nice simple walk. Find the place, mark it, get out. Nice and simple."
Talking to himself probably wasn't a good sign.
no subject
He probably would, too. He's developed quite a taste for shoe leather, although he hasn't actually tried to swallow it yet.
Howard sizes up the new guy. Significantly taller than him, but most adults (and most other teenagers) are. Has the wary stance of someone capable of firing first. Possibly armed.
Probably better to be friendly with him. "What're you looking for, by chance?"