taxonomites | 002 ♂ [visual || location: frye ranch]

The tablet turns on to show a blurry hand, then the hand draws back and one would be able to see a large, muscular man sitting at the kitchen table of the Frye ranch house, a multitude of guns spread out before him. Also in front of him is a soft cloth, several cleaning brushes in various sizes, cloth patches, and bottles of solvent. One gun has already been disassembled and is right in front of him.

"With all the decomposin' nightmares walkin' around this here place, my guns got a nice workout. I'm wonderin' how many of ya used guns against 'em, instead of just sticks and pipes."

He picks up a bottle of solvent and saturates a cloth patch. "Hell, I'll use whatever's handy, but there ain't nothin' like blowin' out zombie brains with one of these lil' darlin's." Plus killing at a distance means no muss, no fuss, and for a man who is always stuck with the cleaning up, that's a good thing.

As he starts on the gun barrel, he doesn't say anything, just cleans away and moves on to other parts of the handgun in front of himself. For someone with such large hands and fingers, he treats each piece delicately and with care. After all, his guns could be the only things between him and certain death, so they are some of the only things he treats with respect.

He also seems to have forgotten to turn off his tablet. It's only when he finishes with his gun and puts it back together in several fluid movements that he catches sight of it out of the corner of his eye.

"Gorramit," he mutters under his breath. A hand comes toward the camera. "Never gonna get the hang of this piece of--" The video cuts out as he turns it off.

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[Why hellllooooo, lady voice.]

A shoe? Just the one? Cuz ya musta been limpin' if ya only had on one.

[She's mildly amused by that question.]

I left the house with a pair and came home with none. It's a shame, they were beautiful.

[Joan is flippant with hindsight, though of course at the time she was absolutely terrified.]

[He's pretty damn impressed that she engaged in close range combat with only a pair of shoes.] Well, ya gotta use what you can. Better to lose fancified shoes than go zombie and need your brains blowed out.

[The eloquence of a poet, this one.]

[In fairness, these were some scary-ass six inch heels and the zombie was the slow, stupid kind.]

Every cloud... [The subject of brains being blown out is still a sore one with her, considering Donald Draper's recent death and resurrection - but of course Jayne wouldn't know that. Subject change! ...well, sort of.]

You seem like quite the expert. Have you had experience with... creatures like these before?

Sorta. Back where I come from we got these... well, they ain't people, but they was once. Call 'em Reavers. They'd rip a man apart with whatever they can find, or their bare hands even. They're cannibals and they're fast. We come up against 'em a coupla times.

[For the record, Joan has her hand to her mouth in a dainty shock/horror type gesture.]

That sounds awful.

Yeah, ain't no song and dance. [He's uncharacteristically quiet. Reavers scare him more than anything else. The zombies weren't half as bad because they moved so slow.]

[It's not difficult for her to pick up on the cues that indicate that a subject change would be good right around now - and honestly, she'd rather just forget that the zombies ever happened.]

"Well, at least you made it out in one piece," she says, in a lighter tone, switching the tablet to visual. It seems somehow impolite to remain anonymous behind the voice setting when she's already seen him. "Joan Harris, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Yeah, I weren't about to get ate." He saw movement on the tablet out of the corner of his eye so he looked up.

And then did a double take.

"Hell, it's you! I ain't fallin' for any 'a your tricks, so don't try!"

One would have to forgive him for mistaking the lovely Joan Harris for his Captain's psychotic ex-bride. The similarities were striking.

Joan's eyebrows shoot up in an expression of genuine surprise and confusion - it's a pretty strong reaction from Jayne, though she's more nonplussed than offended.

"...Excuse me?"

[ooc: omg, so sorry this is so late! my life sort of blew up in multiple hilarious ways all at once.]

"You heard me! I ain't fallin' for your tricks. I ain't a bleedin' heart like Mal, so don't think you can pull anythin' over on me."

Well. That's charming. If Joan wasn't offended before, she's certainly leaning that way now. Her voice is sharply polite.

"I think you must be mistaking me for someone who knows what you're talking about."

"Nuh uh, ain't no mistake. You're the one that tried to kill us and steal our ship, then tried to hoodwink us. Ain't gonna happen here though. You're jus' as trapped as me."

He crossed his arms defiantly. One thing was satisfying thing about all this. That Saffron or whatever name she was going by this week -- did she say Joan? -- couldn't cheat someone out of something and then hightail it.

Joan laughs, though it's more incredulous than genuinely amused. Making the transition from icy politeness to patronising, she retorts:

"That's absurd. I've never seen you before in my life - and for that matter, my interest in ships is negligible."

Sailors, well. That's another issue entirely, but she's married now.

"Look, I got me some perfectly workin' eyes here, and ya ain't foolin' me," he replied stubbornly. If Saffron hadn't been such a dangerous woman, he might have let sleeping dogs lie and just ignored her. Now he felt like he had to be on alert with her around.

002 ♂ [visual || location: frye ranch]

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