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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes, Mal, a freelancer thinks that's insane. You don't fuck around with SPACE. Space is scary. Space is deadly. "What other arguments were there to have?"

"About his casual command style, for one." Malcolm shrugs, trying not to look meek when he looks away again. "If he was the kind of captain I, at the time, thought he should be, he would've cut me loose without ever bothering to set foot on the hull himself. About chatting or sticking to business. About heroics We had quite the heart to heart in some ways."

"...so it's not just us that don't talk unless we hit emotional landmines?" Oh good. He thought maybe he was incredibly insensitive and unobservant or something. Knowing it's a pattern in Malcolm's life is kind of a relief. "Do you still think Captains should cut their losses?"

"I'm not exactly very open about my feelings or...anything about me. I've been getting better through the years, of course, but I thought that was...abundantly clear by now." Where have you been, York? "And that day hit a few emotional landmines. It wasn't very pretty."

But that was then. Here and now is more important, at least to the immediate future. "No, no, I grew very fond of the command structure that he set up. He acted more like a supervisor sometimes than a captain. Sometimes. At the time I thought it was in his best interest to let me go, and I was more than willing to make that sacrifice. Stories of my great-uncle not helping matters much."

He's been here, which is why he narrows his eyes at Malcolm for a moment, considers their respective mentalities, what's trained into both of them, weighs everything around for a moment and...

"Did you do anything to convince him it was in his best interest, or just argue the point?" Or did he do something stupid like attempt to achieve the objective without an extraction plan or considering how he was going to land. He's done that. It was dumb.

"I," he starts, giving a half scoff, half laugh of surprise, "wasn't very convincing. Thankfully."

"Obviously." still peering at Malcolm for a moment more- but if he's not bringing it up? He's not bringing it up. "Sounds like you had a good captain."

"Not one that let me get away with forcing the issue by pulling my air hose." Might as well get it out. It's clear that York is curious, although he doesn't imagine the added information will help matters. "Like I said, not very convincing. He's a good man, one of the best. You'd like him. You'd like a good lot of my crew, I think."

"...What?" Okay that- wow. He'd probably do the same thing in Malcolm's position. Suffocation vs exploding to death kind of- not a choice he'd want to make, normally. "Mal you are one hardcore motherfucker."

"...Is that what you think, after that?" He's honestly surprised. He'd expected--well, not that. Definitely not that.

"It's the same call I would have made. It's not the smartest call-" Make no mistake, they both know that "But it's the call I would have made."

He gives his hand one last squeeze and lets go to pat his back. "Shit idea. Hardcore, yes. Still a shit idea."

The smile that ends up on his face is boyish and lopsided. "I suppose I can take that as a bit of a compliment. Hardcore but stupid. Sounds very...Freelancer." With a nudge of York's side.

"You'll fit right in. And the way your crew sounds I'd like to think I'd have fit in with them. Not sure where I'd end up- probably security. Would that mean I'd have to follow you around, call you Sir?" He is fine with this idea- and that's a good look for Malcolm. York could stand to see it more often.

"That's exactly what that means. Might end up doing that anyway if you really want me ranked so high up on the food chain. Besides, unlocking a door is sometimes more useful than blowing it open. Nothing wrong with a few theatrics, of course..."

"If that's what you say, Sir." Yeah just gonna poke at that a bit. Especially if he keeps smiling. "Ain't a lock I can't crack given enough time, Sir, so whatever you need I'm good for."

"You're incorrigible, plain and simple." One of the best and worst traits York has. Locksmith and overall troublemaker of the group."

"You know you love it." He answers with a grin, wide and easy and real. Not that empty thing from the night of the party. "That's me. Locksmith and troublemaker. I should put that on my businesscard."

See, isn't that much better? So much better. "This ended up being a much different heart to heart than I imagined it going," he says with a laugh, easy as can be."

"How'd you think it would go?" He leans into Malcolm's side, brows lifted.

"Bit overall sadder and more stoic with feelings that remain bruised even though everything's forgiven. I like this much better. It's good to see you honestly smile."

"Don't worry about my feelings being bruised. I was an asshole. You called me on it. We're cool." It probably crosses the line a little, or blurs it, that he tips his head against Malcolm's shoulder. "I smile plenty. You, now. You need to smile more."

"You don't think I smile enough?" He presses a laugh into York's hair. "Well, hardly the first time I've heard that, I suppose, and will hardly be the last, but I'll keep that in mind."

"I really don't." But he's not sure how much of his desire to change that is him being a friend and him being weird. He's weird. He needs to be less weird.

The hair nuzzling is nice that should continue for awhile. "Maybe I got something that could help a bit in the kitchen?"

"...What did you get." Less a question because if there's something for Malcolm in the kitchen to make him smile then it can really only be related to a certain fruit. "Is that as apology or did you sneak it in without me knowing beforehand?"

"Two things? Two things, I think." Yeah, two. He levers himself upright reluctantly and holds a hand down, grin wide. "Yes? It's both. It's...an apology, a present, and a tradition."

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