Scene #1186: SWORDFIGHT!

Owner	Pose
Nasrin	Nasrin had taken a short whilte offboard to take care of some business. She'd come back scratched up and bleeding, but tended her own wounds not wanting to wake up the good Doctor Tam. Meanwhile, she had resumed her little spot in the bunks. She was in the empty main hold, clad in a gray tank that showed the myriad scars crossing the skin on her arms. Her simple fatigues left to bare feet, nails cracked. Her hair was pulled back into a simple bun, with waves of cinnamon popping out from it, her hijab tucked into her belt.
Malcolm Reynolds	Serenity's off somewhere remote in the black, humming along through the emptiness of space with the continued faint rumbling of the engines and the sounds of conversation and livelihood that echo through the halls of the transport ship. There may not even be a specific destination in mind this time, just so long as they're going -somewhere-. "Sir, we haven't seen him for goin' on two months now, if he'd had a job for us, he would've sent a wave," says the familiar terse-sounding voice of the ship's second in command. The ship's captain, seated opposite Zoe and her husband up in the cockpit, gave a devil-may-care sort of shrug, as he stood up from his seat. "We'll figure it out once we're planet-side," replies the captain. "Cockpit's yours for the night." "Doesn't mean I'm allowin' any kind of funny business 'round the controls!" Mal quickly clarifies, hopping on down the metal stairs on his way towards the ship's aft section.
Nasrin	Nas hears the footfalls coming, and she tilts her head back a moment, deciding that it's not River's tip-toes nor the awkward way that Wash traipses about, nor Zoe's stern purposeful footfalls. And she'd know Jayne right off. Oaf doesn't even make an effort. She finishes up her stances, and rolls her shoulders a moment before bending backwards, bridging, and then pushing her feet up to a hand-stand, balacing on the humming ship, traveling through space. ... still such a huge concept to get her mind around. /Space/.
Malcolm Reynolds	And if it was Inara, you probably wouldn't hear her coming. Unless she -wanted- you to hear her coming. Not sure which would be worse. Mal, as it is, continues on his way down the walkway, and into the main area of the ship, where the passageway opens up into the main bay area. It's largely open at the moment, empty of any cargo or passengers, other than the ship's crew, none of whom seem to be milling about at the moment. Mal rests his hands on the cool metal of the railway, and looks out over the bay.
Nasrin	Jingly bangle anklets! Objection! Nasrin pauses, raising one hand, her feet moving to copmensate for the change of balance. "Good evening, Captain. Can I be of service?" She calls up, before bringing her feet back down and whipping her top half back up, her hazel eyes rising to greet the Captain's gaze with a blank expression.
Malcolm Reynolds	That's =totally- up for interpretation. And dependant on which outfit she's driving the Captain crazy in that day. "Not too much that's needin' to be served at the moment, thankfully," comes the Captain's calm-voiced reply, from his vantage point a half-story up or so. "Wouldn't be expecting you to be up so late," he adds. "Or, come to think of it, guess I should've. Got an even less predictable schedule than our lovable teenaged ball of special," he adds.
Nasrin	"You should be careful how you refer to teenage girls, Captain." Nasrin states wryly. "We're very sensitive." ANd she draws up a sword. "... I do not feel like sleeping. There is a time for it, yes, but it is not now." She's saying her words in a careful, deliberate tone. "Tell me, Captain, do you have any experience with weapons other than your sidearm and rifles?"
Malcolm Reynolds	Bahaha. If there was a time for Inara to walk out, this would be it. Fortunately, though, Fate shows Mal a bit of leniency and the dark-haired menance doesn't emerge at this particular moment to answer for him. "A bit," comes the Captain's reply, the corner of his mouth turning up in a bemused smirk at the first part of Nasrin's reply. "I'm told the pointed end tends to be rather sharp," he professes, by means of demonstrating his subject matter expertise.
Nasrin	"Depends on the type." Nasrin corrects quietly, and she draws up the small blade. It's almost two feet long, with a wing-like crossguard on it. It looks like a glorified dagger that some officer would carry around as part of a dress uniform. "I never developed a taste for guns. Too loud for my style."
Malcolm Reynolds	Mal continues to head on down the gangway, his hand on the railing, and focus on his steps ahead as he continues to address the young woman. He does glance over at the sound of quietly sliding metal, when Nasrin draws that small blade of hers. "Sharp on the point or not, as I understand, it's best to avoid being poked by the business end," he clarifies, as he comes to the end of the stairs, and steps out into the open part of the bay. "Good thing about guns being loud is you know when someone's trying to kill you," the Captain points out.
Malcolm Reynolds	Mal gives a slight sort of chuckle and that roguish grin of his, after he speaks. "Well, exceptin' that someone is someone like yourself, that is.." he caveats.
Nasrin	"I'm generally int he position of the upper hand. The gunmen at the drop-off had no idea I was there." Nasrin points out as she sheaths the blade back into its red leather sheath, and sets it back on a canvas scrap. She reaches back and rubs at the back of her neck. "... I'm not sure how long I can keep running from everything out here."
Malcolm Reynolds	Mal steps out into bay, taking a few paces in the direction of Nasrin before stopping, and folding his arms over his chest as he seems apt to do. The Captain regards the young woman with a quiet sort of study, again, as he usually tends to. "Long as you'd like," he says, after a moment or two. "Nice thing about the Universe is it just keeps on gettin' bigger, " he adds. "Long as anyone's reach gets, the black will just get a bit larger."
Nasrin	"The past finds ways of finding you." Nasrin replies, and she picks up a wooden blade, inspecting it, and then she offers the handle to Mal. "Even in a place as large as the Multiverse." She studies him a moment. "You do have a remarkable amount of patience with people you think are useful, don't you?"
Malcolm Reynolds	The Captain eyes the dummy sword for a moment or two, then steps over, taking it by the handle. He tosses the thing over in his palm once or twice, as though judging the feel. "Guess you just have to run a little further then," he replies. "Or make peace with it. Even if that's by staying a bit ahead of it," he adds. "Don't suppose you're askin' whether or not I feel I have to use patience with you?" the man asks, to that last bit of Nasrin's words. "You do know I keep Jayne around on the same ship, right?"
Nasrin	"He's very useful. I know of only one person I have ever met who shares his passion for his weaponry, though she is more engaging in conversation." Nasrin replies wryly. She brings another wooden practice sword up. "He also can be encouraged using basic forces; he's not moved by honor or 'doing the right thing'. Motivation is money, women, short-term. Zoe is honorable and protective, the same can be seen in Dr. Tam. She is a defensive piece." She's still in bare feet, the lean assassin tilts her head downward slightly, appraising Mal. "You have a use for everyone on the ship, except for River."
Malcolm Reynolds	"Well, I certainly wasn't hirin' him for the conversation," agrees the ship's captain, holding the sword out to his side now, loosely. It's clear that he's no swordsman, but the man has seen plenty of fights in his day, and seem himself out of most of them. He regards the slight swordswoman calmly, and with that constantly thoughtful cerulean gaze of his. "What makes you think she's not the most useful out of all of them?" he asks.
Nasrin	Nasrin just gives a small smile. "That's the question, isn't it?" She states, and she begins to circle, preditorily. She walks with a deliberate tempo, her hand curled around the wooden stock of the weapon. "There is more to the story than what either of us see, on either side." she states, and she brings up her blade, looking to disarm Mal with a swift motion, to knock his hand so that it will open and drop the blade. "How did you meet the Tams?"
Malcolm Reynolds	Well, the Captain manages to duck away from Nasrin's first slash, but only due to general physical ability. He jerks his hand, and thereby the sword, away from the motion, though he's poorly positioned to follow up, as the movement was mostly just an instinctal reaction. Mal squares off in a ready sort of athletic stance, trying to judge the best moment to rush Nasrin full-on, most likely. "Brother snuck her on as some cargo," replies the captain, then. "Took her out of some Alliance camp or something. Tryin' to keep a low profile."
Nasrin	Swordfighting was like breathing. A natural motion for Nasrin. Her movement is fluid as she draws one leg back after her slash, and finding no return blow, she steps in again, this time to use the blade to push Mal's aside and bring her elbow into his solar plexus, trying to knock the wind out of him. "The Alliance is still looking for them." she observes, in a quiet thoughtful way.
Malcolm Reynolds	And that's about the extent of Mal's swordsmanship skills. He eagerly smacks his blade back against Nasrin, and naturally, fails to see the elbow coming until it knocks the breath from his chest, and forces him to step back, coughing a moment. "L...Look....Lookin' for most of us," he says, finding his breath. "They tickled the Alliance a bit more than the rest of us, I'll give ya that," he concedes, stepping back in and slashing with both hands on the handgrip. Powerfully, but not very accurately.
Nasrin	NAsrin brings her sword up. She deflects it handily. She steps in, and tries to stomp his instep. "Between illegal jobs, or because of the Rebellion?" she inquires. At that point, it's a curious note to her voice. Her hazel eyes are set on him, eyebrows rising up. "Only use one hand on the blade, Captain. The blade isn't big enough to warrant two."
Malcolm Reynolds	"But it feels so much stronger that way," the Captain protests, just as he's tripped up by Nasrin's stomping of his foot. Naturally, this causes his second two-handed swipe to miss wildly to the side, and he jumps back to get a bit of space. "Mostly the former," replies the Captain, looking up and meeting the swordswoman's eyes, now. "Though plenty of the latter as well," he adds.
Nasrin	"Strenghth doesn't matter if a little girl can knock the piss out of you." Nasrin warns, and she draws up her sword again. "Why /do/ you fight, Captain Reynolds? For your crew, for anything? Love? Honor? Certainly not /money/." she steps back, and circles, watching. "I have seen the price on the Tams. If it were money, you would have turned them in long ago."
Malcolm Reynolds	"Fuel does cost money," the Captain reminds the swordswoman, hefting his sword up in return, though only with one hand this time. His eyes glint with that same sort of quiet study that they always tend to, but there's a deeper sort of interest, or perhaps defense, as Nasrin continues to query at deeper points. "Mostly just to run away," he offers, admittedly lamely, as he takes another swing, aiming for Nasrin's shoulder. "Alliance tends to have nicer toys than I do, you know."
Nasrin	CLACK. It nearly hits. Nasrin just raises, and braces, and her own blade hits her shoulder, with the flat. "So, then what are you running from?" she inquires. There is no return salvo with the blade, honest curiosity, trying to figure out the man.
Malcolm Reynolds	It's a toss-up as to whether Mal honestly doesn't know what the next proper move would be, or chooses to remain with his blade and shoulder pressed against Nasrin's, as the pair remain locked in the joint pose for the moment. "Didn't say that I was," the Captain replies, looking down along his blade and meeting Nasrin's gaze. "Running -to- the next job. Finding the next job. Staying in the sky."
Nasrin	"You run /to/ a place. You run away from something else. Something that you fear. Or a past failure." she points out. And she whips her blade out, and brings the tip down to jab with a very controlled manner at a very sensitive and should-be-protected place. "You love freedom. You don't like being tied down to places, and only marginally less to people."
Malcolm Reynolds	Well, that certainly wasn't expected. And produces a very un-Captainly yelp of pain, as Mal darts back away from the blade, though certaintly not in time. "That's one way to make your point," he bemoans, bending at the waist as he recovers. "Though I don't see why that's some grand secret being revealed," he replies, catching his breath enough to address the last bit of what she's said. "Governments are there to get in a man's way. Freedom's only natural."
Nasrin	"I'm still trying to figure you out." Nasrin replies, and she holds out her hand, loosely, for a shake. "... I like people. I like knowing them better. It is /disparingly/ hard to make friends in my line of work."
Malcolm Reynolds	Mal gives a frustrated sort of look to the wooden sword he's carrying, as one might a particularly frustrating friend who just won't agree with you about something. He flips it around, and offers it back to Nasrin in tandem with his free hand, shaking hers. "Keep on trying," he says, flashing that quick, roguish sort of grin. Stepping back, then. "You've got River to compete with in that game though, I think," says the Captain. "And quite possibly the good Doctor as well. Though I think his patience is not quite as...well-developed as your own."
Nasrin	"Dr. Tam has a reason to be very guarded." Nasrin replies, and then she turns to him, looking over her shoulder. "If my sister had been taken from me and broken... there would be no force in the Multiverse to stop me from killing every. Single. Person. who caused her pain." she turns back to her weapons bag, and begins to roll it up. "To that, the Alliance should be thankful that he is a doctor and not a killer."
Malcolm Reynolds	The Captain stops, turning to face the swordswoman again, a bit more fully. "Yes, well I'm sure they are," he replies, calm-voiced, with a bit of thought behind his gaze. "If you want to play the figure-someone-out game, I'd think you'd have an easier time with the good Doctor," says the Captain, continuing on his way up. "As erratic as she can be, he does so love that girl."
Nasrin	"If I wanted an easy project, I'd have settled for Jayne." Nasrin fires back.
Malcolm Reynolds	his reply does produce a brief sort of chuckle from the captain, as he mounts the catwalk going up. "You're right, I suppose," he replies, calling down to her. "In more than one way."
Nasrin	Poor Jayne. No love. Only sass. "Goodnight, Captain." NAsrin states, gaterhing up her roll and heading for the passenger dorms herself.