Pinched
Anonymous
fan fiction fanfic firefly graphics heist humor jayne whedonverse
"Pinched" is an interactive episode of Firefly -- the one where Simon screws up (of course) and Jayne has to fill in for him at a society wedding in order to carry off a daring heist.
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The room's about as big as Serenity's dining area, and it's stacked full of boxes. The boxes make an aisle from the front of the room to the back, and on the back wall there're some heavy black curtains.

"Wedding gifts?" asks Kaylee, her eyes lighting up real pretty. Thinks we don't notice how her glance goes to Simon.

"Bride price," says Inara. "All this came from the groom. It's on display to show the public that the bride is being wed to someone of 'appropriate standing.'"

"Come now, 'Nara, don't be prickly," says Mal. "Sounds like the bride's right sympathetic to your own line of work."
About you
As fine a specimen of manhood as ever. Though I do miss my gun.

"Fact is," Simon says, "the bridal settlement has a long tradition. It was meant to insure that if a woman's husband died or divorced her, she'd still have a little independence. I always thought it was nice."

Kaylee is staring at him hard, so he adds on, "...though now I think about it, it's antiquated and disrespects a woman's ability to look after herself. Lots of differences about Earth-That-Was."
You check your inventory
I've got on me :
a ticket stub

Inara ignores all the back and forth and goes to the curtain. "Might as well see the center of the collection. Jayne, I think this will open whole new worlds of art appreciation for you."

She draws the curtain back, and I'm faced with the strangest painting I ever saw.
You look at the painting
It looks to be real old. Real old porn, that is. There's two ladies sitting naked in a bathtub, and one of them is reaching over and pinching the other one's nipple, all dainty like she's picking up a teacup.

"...huh," Kaylee says. "That's not what I... huh."
You examine the stub
It grants access to the bridal display of this wedding-to-be. Stiff purple square of paper with a lady drawn on it, and torn halfway across.

"A genuine oil painting from Earth-that-was, in this condition, of this age, is worth more than this house and every other thing in it," Inara says.
You ask Inara about the painting
I got three ways of conversin': ASK QUESTIONS, JOKE, and CAUSE A RUCKUS. That last one's my favorite.

"You'll have to give me some lessons in appreciating art, Inara," says Mal. "Think there might be some significances to this piece that I'm not grasping the sense of."
Joke
"Is it just me or is something wrong with the eyebrows on those women?"

"It's from the late 16th century," Simon says. "French. It depicts the king's mistress -- see there, she's holding a ring that he gave her. Her sister is in the bath too, and the nipple pinch is to show that the mistress is pregnant."

"Still seems like a strange thing to give someone when you're getting married," Kaylee comments.

"Job suits me," I say. "Be happy to store that in my bunk during the ride--"

Inara steps on my toe, hard.

"Ai ya!"

"I reckon we've admired this here bride price just about enough," says Mal. "What do you think, Inara? Time to leave the viewing?"



New Reykjavik is right up to the north part of this planet, as there's not much but water round the tropics. That being the case, it's freezing cold here half the ruttin' year, and from what you can hear told, mud the other half. This here is the freezing part. This street is all snow and ice, but the buildings ain't bad.

Kaylee, Mal, and Simon are along, loaded down with bags of this and that -- clothes for the wedding ball, electronics parts for the heist, groceries.

"If it isn't Simon!"

There's some little bit of a woman shouting from the other side of the street. Simon doesn't even look up and we all figure it must be someone else she's shouting at. But no.

"Simon Tam!"

She pushes her way out of the crowd on her side of the street and runs towards us. She's one good-looking girl, too, if you like 'em bundled up in a lot of furs and capes and with twinkly crap all over their boots. Simon doesn't look too delighted to see her, but the next minute she's hugging him and he kind of pats her shoulder.

"Everyone, this is Lucy," he says. "She was in my year at medical school; we were partners in neuroregeneration lab. Lucy, this is--"

Mal frowns at him.

"--this is everyone," says Simon.
You examine Lucy
She's got long blonde hair and a narrow pointy little face. Tasty enough, though not much like either Kaylee or Inara.

"I haven't seen you in so long!" Lucy's not hugging him any more, but she's still got his arm like she's fixing to take it home with her.

"And I wasn't expecting to see anyone out here, either! I'm so far from home, it's ridiculous how lonely I get! And the weather! Snow 13 months of the year! Are you here for the Jonsdotter-Wilkes wedding? Please say yes. You're the only person on this planet that's going to know the same dances as me. Do you still tango?"

Kaylee makes a little tiny noise I might not hear if she weren't right next to me.
You examine Kaylee
Kaylee's chin is sticking out and she's getting real busy checking out something she's got stashed in her rucksack. Or possibly she's just moving stuff around in there. Don't look like she's takin' anything out.

"I-- don't know," Simon is saying. "That is, yes. Yes, I was invited. I'll be there. Sorry, it's just such a surprise to see you again, Luce."

Lucy pouts. "If you followed the alumni newswaves, you'd've known I was living here now."

"My mail has been very erotic lately," Simon says.
You look at Simon
He's almost got an expression on. Though I ain't sure I could put a name to it.

"We'll have to catch up at the wedding," Lucy says. "I wish I could stay and trade stories now, but I'm already late--"

"--there's a first." Simon's smiling for real now. Didn't know his face muscles stretched in that direction.

"Don't be awful. I'll see you there. Save me one of your dippingest, most Argentine dances." She kisses his cheek and then she's gone again, and the air behind her smells like apples. Cold apples. The snow hasn't gone anywhere.
Examine mal
He's dressed in his best suit, which makes me think he's going to burst something.

"Care to explain what that was about?" Mal asks.

"What, Lucy?" Simon is still grinning a little, though it's starting to fade. "She's an old friend of mine -- well, when I say friend, we kind of -- that is, we were never actually -- but I think she wanted -- if we hadn't been so busy we probably would have -- I mean I thought about --"

Mal interrupts. "She gonna turn you in? What with the price on your head, and all. We didn't plan on people hereabout knowing your name."

"Lucy? She wouldn't. Besides, it didn't seem like she knows about that."
You ask the questions
"Why-come you didn't see Lucy on the rutting guest list?" I demand. "You and Inara said you checked everyone that was coming."

"Wouldn't mind hearing the answer to that question my own self," says Mal pointedly.

"I don't-- she must have been added late," Simon says. "She wasn't on the list when we looked."
Joke
"You and Inara got yourselves added late," I say. "Maybe Lucy's stealing the painting too."

"This is just dandy," Mal says. "Someone want to explain to me how the plan is going to work now? We need me and Zoe on the pickup, and Wash and Book got to stay with the ship, whilst now it appears that Simon has to attend this party but not be of any use."

Simon's jaw is working and he keeps kicking at the snow with the toe of his boot.
You ask the questions
"What about me?" I ask.

Everyone turns to stare.

"I could do it. Do the sneaking part better than Simon could."

"We can't add you now," Simon says, annoyed. "Even if Inara could get you an invitation, you'd need your own escort. And table manners."

"I'll be Jayne's escort," says Kaylee. Guess she's pulled her head out of her bag now. "Did a good enough job at that ball on Persephone, didn't I? Still got the dress, even."

"Kaylee, this won't be--" Mal says, while Simon says, louder: "With Jayne?"

Kaylee comes closer to me and holds my arm tight. "It's supposed to look like this, right?"

This is my bunk. Not that you could tell that, from the quantity of gos-se thrown here and there. Piled up in here is every
garment we could find on the ship that looked like it might fit me and do well enough for the wedding banquet.
You look at what you're carrying with you
I've got on me :
a grey pair of faded underpants (being worn)
You look at the garments
Place hardly looks like mine now.

Book's suitcase is on the floor, spilling out a grey pair of pinstriped pants, a grey scratchy shirt, and a white starchy shirt.

I can also see a black pair of tight pants, a crimson pair of sharply creased pants, a frilly white poet shirt, and some jackets (white, trimmed crimson, and black sparkly) here.

Thrown over the bed are a black silk shirt and a black cloak.
You wear the crimson pants
(first I'm gonna take the crimson pair of sharply creased pants)
I try on the crimson pair of sharply creased pants.

"Come out whenever you're done in there!" yells Zoe.

"Yeah, I'm dying to admire your sartorial splendor," says Wash.
You look at the frilly shirt
Big flowy cuffs, and ruffles up the front on both sides.
You examine the starchy shirt
It's thick white cloth, very smooth. It doesn't so much wrinkle as fold.
You examine the scratchy shirt
Looks like the kind of thing the preacher would wear -- stiff cloth and a plain color.
You examine the black silk shirt
Very plain-looking cut, but the cloth is thick and sort of shiny.
You wear the black silk shirt
(first I'm gonna take the black silk shirt)
I shrug myself into the black silk shirt.

"Having a little trouble in there?" Simon shouts in. "Do you need help putting on your pants?"

"Sure! Send in Inara!" I shout back.
You look around
Place hardly looks like mine now.

Book's suitcase is on the floor, spilling out a grey pair of pinstriped pants, a grey scratchy shirt, and a white starchy shirt.

I can also see a black pair of tight pants, a frilly white poet shirt, and some jackets (white, trimmed crimson, and black sparkly) here.

Thrown over the bed is a black cloak.
You look at sparkly
The coat is made of a slightly fuzzy black cloth, very dark and unreflective. Someone put little twinkly electroluminescent lights all over it, which sparkle and blink. I think it's meant to be some kind of star pattern.
You look at white
Which do you mean, the frilly white poet shirt, the white funeral coat, or the white starchy shirt?
You examine the white coat
It goes to waist-length and it doesn't look like it's intended for a man who likes to live large when it comes to eating. Or shooting. Or doing anything messy.
You look at the crimson
(the crimson pair of sharply creased pants)
There's a line running down the front of each leg. Don't see why.
You look at the trimmed crimson
It's a heavy coat with brass buttons and straight sleeves. Bright crimson.
You wear the crimson coat
(first I'm gonna take the trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes)
I dress, finishing a complete outfit of the trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes, the black silk shirt, and the crimson pair of sharply creased pants. Matching, but not too matching.
You examine the cloak
It's a long piece of heavy cloth with a pin to keep it shut.
You wear the cloak
(first taking off the trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes and grabbing the black cloak)
I dress, finishing a complete outfit of the black cloak, the black silk shirt, and the crimson pair of sharply creased pants. Matching, but not too matching.
You look at your surroundings
Place hardly looks like mine now.

Book's suitcase is on the floor, spilling out a grey pair of pinstriped pants, a grey scratchy shirt, and a white starchy shirt.

I can also see a black pair of tight pants, a frilly white poet shirt, and some jackets (white and black sparkly) here.
Go outside
I emerge dressed in a black cloak, a black silk shirt, and a crimson pair of sharply creased pants. "Well?"

"Very eighteenth century," says Wash approvingly.

Simon just raises his eyebrows. "That thing around your shoulders isn't a cape, Jayne," he says. "It wraps around your waist and pins in place."

"You mean it's a skirt?" I demand.

"Skirtlike garments for men have a long history, especially for formal occasions." I get the feeling he's enjoying this a little more than he should.

Place hardly looks like mine now.

Book's suitcase is on the floor, spilling out a grey pair of pinstriped pants, a grey scratchy shirt, and a white starchy shirt.

I can also see a black pair of tight pants, a frilly white poet shirt, and some jackets (white and black sparkly) here.
You check your inventory
I've got on me :
a black kilt
a trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes
a black silk shirt (being worn)
a crimson pair of sharply creased pants (being worn)
a grey pair of faded underpants (being worn)
You drop kilt
Dropped.
You wear the crimson coat
I dress, finishing a complete outfit of the trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes, the black silk shirt, and the crimson pair of sharply creased pants. Matching, but not too matching.
You go outside
"How about this?" I ask, coming out of the room in a trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes, a black silk shirt, and a crimson pair of sharply creased pants.

"As a rule you want your shirt to be a lighter color than the jacket or coat you're wearing over it," says Simon. "Give it another try."

Place hardly looks like mine now.

Book's suitcase is on the floor, spilling out a grey pair of pinstriped pants, a grey scratchy shirt, and a white starchy shirt.

Also nearby: a black kilt, a black pair of tight pants, a frilly white poet shirt, and some jackets (white and black sparkly).
You drop the crimson coat
(first taking off the trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes)
Dropped.
You wear the black jacket
(first I'm gonna take the black twinkly coat)
I dress, finishing a complete outfit of the black twinkly coat, the black silk shirt, and the crimson pair of sharply creased pants. Matching, but not too matching.
You go outside
Wearing the black twinkly coat, the black silk shirt, and the crimson pair of sharply creased pants, I walk out for the group to see. "What do you think?"

Simon shakes his head. "Your shirt and jacket can't be the same color," he says. "It makes you look like you're in service. As a rule, you want your bottom half to match one of the things you're wearing on your top half, and then the other thing you're wearing provides some color contrast. So you've got two colors total."

Place hardly looks like mine now.

Book's suitcase is on the floor, spilling out a grey pair of pinstriped pants, a grey scratchy shirt, and a white starchy shirt.

Also nearby: a black kilt, a black pair of tight pants, a frilly white poet shirt, and some jackets (trimmed crimson and white).
You wear the gray shirt
(first removing the black twinkly coat)
I take off the black twinkly coat and discard it. The lights flicker when it hits the ground, then come back on.

(first taking off the black silk shirt and grabbing the grey scratchy shirt)
I shrug myself into the grey scratchy shirt.
You wear the black coat
(first I'm gonna take the black twinkly coat)
I dress, finishing a complete outfit of the black twinkly coat, the grey scratchy shirt, and the crimson pair of sharply creased pants. Not that I put much store by Simon, but I expect he'll say this get-up has too many colors.
You wear the black pants
(first taking off the crimson pair of sharply creased pants and grabbing the black pair of tight pants)
I put on the black pants, and they do zip all right, but soon as I go to take a step they rip right up the back.

So much for the fine craftsmanship of the planets nearer the Core. You'd think with the high technology and all they'd work out how to make pants that stay stuck together.
You look around
Place hardly looks like mine now.

Book's suitcase is on the floor, spilling out a grey pair of pinstriped pants and a white starchy shirt.

I can also see some rags, a black kilt, a frilly white poet shirt, and some jackets (trimmed crimson and white) here.
You wear the crimson pants
I dress, finishing a complete outfit of the black twinkly coat, the grey scratchy shirt, and the crimson pair of sharply creased pants. Not that I put much store by Simon, but I expect he'll say this get-up has too many colors.
You wear the crimson jacket
(first taking off the black twinkly coat and grabbing the trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes)
I take off the black twinkly coat and discard it. The lights flicker when it hits the ground, then come back on.

I dress, finishing a complete outfit of the trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes, the grey scratchy shirt, and the crimson pair of sharply creased pants. Matching, but not too matching.
You go outside
I emerge dressed in a trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes, a grey scratchy shirt, and a crimson pair of sharply creased pants. "Well?"

"The red and the grey don't go together," says Zoe. "Bad color combination."

I give Simon a disbelieving look. "That one's an unofficial rule, but she's right," he says.

"Save us some time if you told me all the rules at once," I say.

"But that wouldn't be funny!" protests Wash.

"Can't," Simon says. "Half of them I don't remember until I see you hideously mangling them."

Place hardly looks like mine now.

Book's suitcase is on the floor, spilling out a grey pair of pinstriped pants and a white starchy shirt.

Also nearby: some rags, a black kilt, a frilly white poet shirt, and some jackets (black sparkly and white).
You wear the white shirt
(the frilly white poet shirt)
(first removing the trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes)
(first taking off the grey scratchy shirt and grabbing the frilly white poet shirt)
I pull on the poet shirt. I look like a gorram idiot. There ought to be some other way.
You check what you're carrying
I've got on me :
a trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes
a crimson pair of sharply creased pants (being worn)
a grey pair of faded underpants (being worn)
some shirts (frilly white (being worn), grey, and black)
You drop all
trimmed crimson coat with epaulettes: Dropped.
grey scratchy shirt: Dropped.
black silk shirt: Dropped.
Look around
Place hardly looks like mine now.

Book's suitcase is on the floor, spilling out a grey pair of pinstriped pants and a white starchy shirt.

Also nearby: some shirts (black and grey), some jackets (trimmed crimson, black sparkly, and white), some rags, and a black kilt.
You wear the kilt
(first taking off the crimson pair of sharply creased pants and grabbing the black kilt)
I try on the black kilt.
You wear the grey shirt
(first taking off the frilly white poet shirt and grabbing the grey scratchy shirt)
I shrug myself into the grey scratchy shirt.
You wear the black jacket
(first I'm gonna take the black twinkly coat)
I dress, finishing a complete outfit of the black twinkly coat, the grey scratchy shirt, and the black kilt. Matching, but not too matching.
Go outside
"How about this?" I ask, coming out of the room in a black twinkly coat, a grey scratchy shirt, and a black kilt.

"I like it," says Wash.

"He's wearing a coat that lights up and flashes," Zoe says. "He's going to get shot the minute he attempts stealth."

Wash takes another bite of bao. "Like I said, it's a great look."

"It's a fine jacket," Simon says to me, ignoring them. "If only it would stop the blinking."

Place hardly looks like mine now.

Book's suitcase is on the floor, spilling out a grey pair of pinstriped pants and a white starchy shirt.

I can also see a black silk shirt, some jackets (trimmed crimson and white), and some rags here.
You search the black coat
I feel the whole thing over carefully and finally I find it, sewn into the cuff: a little metal stud that can be pressed to turn the coat's lights on and off. The other cuff has the battery sewn in.
You turn off the black coat
I press the stud and the lights on the jacket go dark. About time.
You look yourself
As fine a specimen of manhood as ever.

Currently I'm dressed in the black twinkly coat, the grey scratchy shirt, and the black kilt.
Go outside
I emerge dressed in a black twinkly coat, a grey scratchy shirt, and a black kilt. "Well?"

Simon blinks several times. "I-- yes, I suppose that works."

"What's he supposed to be, a highlander at a wake?" Wash asks.

"Keep your knees together when you sit. Those short skirts get drafty," Zoe offers.

"How are we getting the painting out?" I ask.

"You're not," Mal says. "You're going to leave it there."
You press the space
I don't see nothin' like that.
Come again?
You ask the questions
"I know we've been moving towards a more user-friendly style of theft lately, but next you'll be wanting to steal stuff by maybe dusting and waxing it for the owner."

"You don't wax paintings," says Mal, aside.

Mal looks me in the eye. "You don't take anything out. There's too much security in the way. All you do is get back into the Display Room and tag the back of the painting with a micro-sized locator. That way you don't have to shut down the whole security system, just the one panel that senses if you take the painting off the wall. When you're done tagging, you turn security back on and everything looks right and shiny."

Simon arrives from the passenger area. He's dressed real formally in black suit and a white shirt I'm sure wasn't on him when I went through his luggage that time him and River got taken by hill-folk. Guess he's been doing some shopping.

He's also putting on some kind of lipstick.
Joke
"No one mentioned the menfolk wear lipstick on this planet."

"It's not lipstick," says Simon, screwing up the tube. "It's just a sealant."

"Sure, good thought," says Mal. "Easy to get your whole face chapped, this kind of weather."

Book gives Simon a long funny look but says nothing.

Mal goes on. "When the painting is moved for assessment and storage -- which is scheduled to happen in the small hours of the morning -- we'll be able to trace it. Doing the trace during the wedding means there's the least chance for them to find the tag and take it off again.

"Simon and Inara scoped out this security team, worked out their habits. They'll be using several decoy transports for a cargo this valuable, but if we know which transport is the right one, we can lift the painting from there."

Inara and Kaylee arrive at last, both dressed up and glossy. "Good, appears that the primping and fussin' is over," says Mal.

"You both look very nice," says Book.

"Ain't got all night," says Mal. And so we're off.

"Bad news," Kaylee says, coming to my elbow and talking low. "I had to ditch the tool kit in the potted plant by the door."

I've been this side of security for ten minutes already, and I'm already wishing we were at a different party.

This room is where everyone goes after they come through security, which is before you get to the real party. The fancier the party the more rooms you need to go through to get to it, evidently. Personally I like the kind that's held outdoors.

Kaylee is standing close by.
You ask the questions
"You-- what? How in the fay-fay duh pee-yen are we supposed
to do the job now?"

"Fancy place like this, there's going to be something we can use to jimmy the security system and reset the wires," she says. "We'll just have to keep an eye open. But I didn't have a choice. Nearly got caught with the tools on me -- I only realized at the end they were running a full P-99 entry scan on the guests, and not just for weapons neither."

"That don't seem hardly polite."

"No! It's a full-body scan -- whoever's running security sees right through your clothes."

"Everyone's?" Now that there's the kind of thing I ought to
be doing for a living.

A man in a purple jacket approaches. He's carrying a tray, and on the tray are a dozen or so full shotglasses. Stuck along the top of each one there's a metal stick with a cube of something on it.

"Ooh, tasties," Kaylee says, taking one eagerly and handing another to me. The man bows and moves away.

There's quite a pungent aroma rising from this thing.

Kaylee pops hers in her mouth. "When you get it in your mouth," she says, chewing awkwardly, "you can't smell it as much."
Drink
What do you want to drink?
Shotglass
*** Run-time problem P10: Since the shotglass is not allowed the property "proper utensil", it is against the rules to try to use it.

Oh, that burns. All the way down. Can feel the lining of my stomach.

This party is going to be good.

Kaylee swallows. "I think that might have been fish. Once. In
another lifetime." She tips her shotglass up and takes a long drink. Her eyes go wide again, but this time she's quieter about it.
Smell sprig
It smells like grandma. Not mine. Someone else's.

Old Man Guest turns to his wife. "Odd that we were fobbed off with this table," he says too loudly. "I wonder who was in charge of the seating arrangements. And whether they were revised badly at the last minute."

"I did think we were supposed to be at the Glitnirs' table," agrees his wife. "But then we wouldn't have met these charming people." She practically has to shout that last part for him to hear it.

"I admire your good heart, my dear," he says.
Joke
Mal made me swear not to say anything during the dinner course that I didn't absolutely have to. Think he made Kaylee promise to tell on me, too.
You examine the old man
Elderly fellow, very thin, dressed all in black. So much for all Simon's dressing rules. I think the old fellow's a bit deaf.
You put the straw in the soup
(first I'm gonna take the metal straw)

That can't contain things.

"You sure are a cute couple," says Old Lady Guest to me and Kaylee. "Where did you meet?"

"Um, a different planet," says Kaylee. "We've known each other a long time now."
You look at the old woman
She's shrunk so short she's like half a person tall, and she's wearing some kind of purple dress with tiny lights all around the neckline.
You examine the soup
It looks thick, white, and creamy. Doesn't look much different from Blue Sun Cream of Wheat, to tell the truth, only there's a green swirl of pureed peas to look decorative.
You examine the spoon
It looks like any other custom-made gold-plated spoon, except there's a clothespin as part of the handle. Maybe so's you can take it home and hang up washing afterward. As a souvenir. There's a lavender sprig pinned onto the handle.

"Did you see the bride gifts?" asks Old Lady Guest. "They're extraordinary. That painting... such an exquisite piece of work. No one makes things like that any more. The brushwork is so fine you can barely see it."

"You didn't think it was a little... strange?" Kaylee asks. "I mean, the... pinching?"

Old Lady Guest shrugs. "Manners change."
You eat the soup
(with my hands)
Had a cat once that would dip its paw in a glass of water and then lick off the drops. Didn't seem sanitary.
You get the spoon
Got it.
You eat the soup with the spoon
I take a spoonful of the soup. By itself it tastes sort of ordinary, but the smell of the lavender kind of perks it up. Kaylee takes a sip of hers with her lavender-spoon and grins at me. Should've guessed she'd like her soup with flowers on it.

Once I've got the sense of what to do I eat nice and hearty. Or as hearty as I can. They believe in small bowls on this planet.

"Good to see that our hosts are ministering to the needs of the deprived," remarks Old Man Guest. I think someone told me his name but I forgot it.

"Oh, are they?" asks Kaylee. "That's nice of them."

Old Lady Guest smiles.

Seeing that I've finished with my previous course, the ever-hovering waiters bring me a crab.

"Do you plan to dance later?" asks Old Lady Guest of Kaylee.

Kaylee looks at me, then says, "I don't know."

I frown at her. No point in the girl getting ideas about making me embarrass myself. This day's bad enough already.
You look at the crab
It's a whole crab, claws and eyes and everything. I'm relieved to say that it is dead. Most likely there's some way into the shell, but I don't know what that is.
You look at your surroundings
You can tell this room's expensive, because it's got a glass roof in this climate, but it's warm inside. Warm like one of those hot planet beaches. There are trees scattered around the room and lights all twinkling all over them, and fountains, just to show off how much clean water this planet's got.

Set at my place is a crab.

Old Man Guest and Old Lady Guest in a purple dress are sitting on their side of the table, smiling and nodding at us. They ain't eating a thing. Kaylee's trying not to have to say too much.

There are also gold-plated utensils (laser knife, itty-bitty fork, mini-mace, and flat spade) on the table.

"Wish I could still enjoy meals," says Old Lady Guest to the table at large. "But I have intestinal problems. Do you know what Mayhare's Disease does?"

Kaylee shakes her head.

"I hope," says Old Man Guest, taking her hand, "that you are not regaling our dining companions with the intimate details of your bowel situation."

"Sorry," she says. "Sometimes I forget."
Crack crab
(with my fists)
I give the crab a good hard thump with my closed fist. It skids off its plate and lettuce and lands on the floor.

The waiter's eyes get very big. "Allow me to replace sir's crab," he says. And sure enough right away he puts another one on my plate, even uglier than before.

"Lilija is such a beautiful bride," observes Old Lady Guest.

We smile and nod at that. I think nodding is probably safe.
You hit the crab with the mace
(first I'm gonna take the mini-mace)
I hit the crab a couple times with the mini-mace, but all I manage to do is speckle its shell with many tiny dents.
You cut the crab with the knife
(first I'm gonna take the laser knife)
I revv up the laser knife and start in on the surgery. It works just dandy on the shell and claws -- lays 'em right open.
You eat the crab
(with my hands)
My fingers are too big to get into that shell and pick out the meat.
You eat the crab with the fork
(first I'm gonna take the toy-sized fork)
I dig the toy-sized fork into the crab and manage to pull out a strip of the meat, and then another. It's... actually very good. Kind of sweet. Doesn't take long to fork out all the meat inside.

Seeing that I've finished with my previous course, the ever-hovering waiters bring me some carrot juice.
You examine the juice
It's liquid. And orange, like a carrot. I'm pretty sure it is a carrot. In liquid form.
Drink juice
(with my hands)
The rim of the glass is perforated all the way around. To make it harder to drink, I guess. I dribble a little on my grey scratchy shirt, but the good thing is I think it won't show. Still, need to find another way to drink the rest.
You drink the juice with the straw
Maybe the straw interfered in some fashion but what I'm tasting here is carrots plus some kind of citrusy thing.

Seeing that I've finished with my previous course, the ever-hovering waiters bring me a green glass dome.
You look at the dome
It's like a tiny dome over the food, only it's clear and glassy and sort of looks like you're supposed to eat it.

In the green glass dome is some chopped raw fish.
Joke
Mal made me swear not to say anything during the dinner course that I didn't absolutely have to. Think he made Kaylee promise to tell on me, too.
You examine the jacket
The coat is made of a slightly fuzzy black cloth, very dark and unreflective. Someone put little twinkly electroluminescent lights all over it, though they are mercifully switched off at the moment. I think it's meant to be some kind of star pattern.

There's a juiced battery and a control stud sewn in.

There's a juiced battery and a control stud sewn in the cuffs.
You eat the dome with the spade
(first I'm gonna take the flat spade)
That looks a good bit too hard to just bite into.
Lift dome
That first word, you get that from the Doctor? It don't mean anything I know.
You get the dome
Got it.
Open dome
I give the dome a good sharp blow with the side of my hand, martial-arts style. It goes skidding across the serving dish, but doesn't get far on account of this dish has high walls. Almost like it was meant to contain the blast.
You hit the dome with the mace
One good whack with the miniature mace and the dome cracks open and falls apart in a dozen or so curved shards. I could get used to the smashing-things method of eating. Suits me.
You eat the shard
*** Run-time problem P10: Since the shards of culinary glass is not allowed the property "proper utensil", it is against the rules to try to use it.

(with my hands)
I lift one of the shards to my tongue. It tastes kind of like candy. Also kind of like hot hot burning all the way down my tongue and up my nose. Ow. But tasty. A tasty ow.
You eat the fish with spoon
The overpowering scent of lavender combined with the chopped fish is strongly unappetizing. Not to mention I think Old Man Guest is laughing at me.
You remove the lavender
(first I'm gonna take the lavender sprig)
I try stripping off the lavender sprig. Which you might think was the kind of event that would liven a stuffy party like this right up, but somehow it doesn't turn out to amuse them all very much.
You take the sprig
I tug the lavender sprig out of the clothespin.
You eat the fish with the spoon
I spoon up the tuna. Pretty sure that wasn't how I was supposed to do it, but don't much care.

The next thing out is a cube of meat, just one not-very-big cube, skewered on the end of a long wire thing that stands up from the table. It's like food on an antenna.
You look at the cube
Another cube of meat, this one a centimeter or two on the side. It's glazed with brown goo and looks like it's got bits of tree sticking to it.
You get the antenna
I go to pick up the antenna, but one of the waiters leans over on my right. "Sir, the antenna is already adjusted to its ideal height."

That's good to know.
You eat the meat
I lean in close and bite the meat right off its antenna. Now this wouldn't be half bad if there were about fifty more of these little cubes. As it is... you call that a dish? Wonder if I could get someone else's cube too.

Seeing that I've finished with my previous course, the ever-hovering waiters bring me a cool white yogurt.
You examine the yogurt
Cool white stuff, looks like yogurt, only there's green and green-yellow and greenish-red powders layered in.
You eat the yogurt with the spade
With the flat spade I can just about manage to lift up a layer of the white stuff with some of the powder. It keeps trying to slip off. When I get it to my mouth it tastes like... lettuce. With creamy dressing. Only the whole texture is creamy.

The waiter brings, last, a chocolate sphere. It's all round and glossy like a ball, until he pours some kind of hot sauce over it. Then it melts partly away right there on the plate. He also gives me a plain ordinary spoon like any old ordinary person might use. Don't see why we couldn't have gotten one of those sooner.
You look at the spoon
(the clothespin spoon)
It looks like any other custom-made gold-plated spoon, except there's a clothespin as part of the handle.
You check your inventory
I've got on me :
a lavender sprig
gold-plated utensils (flat spade, itty-bitty fork, laser knife, mini-mace, clothespin spoon, and metal straw)
a black twinkly coat (being worn)
a grey scratchy shirt (being worn)
a black kilt (being worn)
a grey pair of faded underpants (being worn)
You look around
You can tell this room's expensive, because it's got a glass roof in this climate, but it's warm inside. Warm like one of those hot planet beaches. There are trees scattered around the room and lights all twinkling all over them, and fountains, just to show off how much clean water this planet's got.

Currently stuck in front of me is a chocolate sphere. It is accompanied by an ordinary spoon, a dining antenna, and some shards of culinary glass.

Old Man Guest and Old Lady Guest in a purple dress are sitting on their side of the table, smiling and nodding at us. They ain't eating a thing. Kaylee's trying not to have to say too much.
You look at your surroundings
You can tell this room's expensive, because it's got a glass roof in this climate, but it's warm inside. Warm like one of those hot planet beaches. There are trees scattered around the room and lights all twinkling all over them, and fountains, just to show off how much clean water this planet's got.

The stuff I'm supposed to eat next is a chocolate sphere. It is accompanied by an ordinary spoon, a dining antenna, and some shards of culinary glass.

Old Man Guest and Old Lady Guest in a purple dress are sitting on their side of the table, smiling and nodding at us. They ain't eating a thing. Kaylee's trying not to have to say too much.
You eat the sphere with the ordinary
(first I'm gonna take the ordinary spoon)
Gorram that's strong. There's chocolate, and some round red fruits I don't think I ever saw before, but mostly a lot of hot alcohol.

There's a bunch of fooferaw after that: dinner's over but they've got speeches, and toasts, and some man with flowers on his hat gets up and tells some stories about a dog he had, who is like the bride somehow.

Kaylee gets all happy and misty about that, so it must've been a good dog story. Don't much care about the things myself.

After a good long time, though, we're allowed to leave the tables, and then it's all guests circulating and some of them dancing. Which is the time for me and Kaylee to make our move.

We're headin' into the hallway toward the display room when Kaylee gestures for me to hold still.

I hear Lucy say, "So tell me, Simon Tam: what did you do to get the Alliance chasing you and that price on your head?"

This is a long, important-looking hallway. We were here before, during the public viewing of the bride price. The display room is just off to the east.

Next to the doorway east, there's a security panel set into the wall.

Lucy and Simon are a little way down the dim hall; Lucy has her back to us, but I think Simon knows we're here. Kaylee is beside me.
Look around
You can tell this room's expensive, because it's got a glass roof in this climate, but it's warm inside. Warm like one of those hot planet beaches. There are trees scattered around the room and lights all twinkling all over them, and fountains, just to show off how much clean water this planet's got.

Currently stuck in front of me is a chocolate sphere. It is accompanied by an ordinary spoon and a dining antenna.

Old Man Guest and Old Lady Guest in a purple dress are sitting on their side of the table, smiling and nodding at us. They ain't eating a thing. Kaylee's trying not to have to say too much.
You get all
plate: Got it.
chocolate sphere: Got it.
dining antenna: I go to pick up the antenna, but one of the waiters leans over on my right. "Sir, the antenna is already adjusted to its ideal height."

That's good to know.
You check your inventory
I've got on me :
a chocolate sphere
a plate
a dining antenna
some shards of culinary glass
a lavender sprig
a black twinkly coat (being worn)
a grey scratchy shirt (being worn)
a black kilt (being worn)
a grey pair of faded underpants (being worn)
gold-plated utensils (ordinary spoon, flat spade, teeny tiny fork, laser knife, mini-mace, clothespin spoon, and metal straw)
You look under the kilt
I peek at the grey pair of faded underpants. Yup, still there.
You look at the coat
The coat is made of a slightly fuzzy black cloth, very dark and unreflective. Someone put little twinkly electroluminescent lights all over it, though they are mercifully switched off at the moment. I think it's meant to be some kind of star pattern.

There's a juiced battery and a control stud sewn in.

There's a juiced battery and a control stud sewn in the cuffs.
%
The room's about as big as Serenity's dining area, and it's stacked full of boxes. The boxes make an aisle from the front of the room to the back, and on the back wall there're some heavy black curtains.

"Wedding gifts?" asks Kaylee, her eyes lighting up real pretty. Thinks we don't notice how her glance goes to Simon.

"Bride price," says Inara. "All this came from the groom. It's on display to show the public that the bride is being wed to someone of 'appropriate standing.'"

"Come now, 'Nara, don't be prickly," says Mal. "Sounds like the bride's right sympathetic to your own line of work."
You examine Inara
She's not bad to look at, but I prefer more of an affordable model. And one that isn't so interested in serving men tea.

"Fact is," Simon says, "the bridal settlement has a long tradition. It was meant to insure that if a woman's husband died or divorced her, she'd still have a little independence. I always thought it was nice."

Kaylee is staring at him hard, so he adds on, "...though now I think about it, it's antiquated and disrespects a woman's ability to look after herself. Lots of differences about Earth-That-Was."
You examine the curtain
They're made of heavy black material. And closed.

Inara ignores all the back and forth and goes to the curtain. "Might as well see the center of the collection. Jayne, I think this will open whole new worlds of art appreciation for you."

She draws the curtain back, and I'm faced with the strangest painting I ever saw.
You look at the painting
It looks to be real old. Real old porn, that is. There's two ladies sitting naked in a bathtub, and one of them is reaching over and pinching the other one's nipple, all dainty like she's picking up a teacup.

"...huh," Kaylee says. "That's not what I... huh."
You ask the questions
"What is this anyhow?"

"It's from the late 16th century," Simon says. "French. It depicts the king's mistress -- see there, she's holding a ring that he gave her. Her sister is in the bath too, and the nipple pinch is to show that the mistress is pregnant."

"Still seems like a strange thing to give someone when you're getting married," Kaylee comments.
Joke
"What a shock, Simon likes the painting with the sister issues," I say. Actually that wasn't so much of a joke.

Simon just gets clenchy in the jaw region.

"A genuine oil painting from Earth-that-was, in this condition, of this age, is worth more than this house and every other thing in it," Inara says.

"Job suits me," I say. "Be happy to store that in my bunk during the ride--"

Mal steps on my toe, hard.

"Ai ya!"

"I reckon we've admired this here bride price just about enough," says Mal. "What do you think, Inara? Time to leave the viewing?"



New Reykjavik is right up to the north part of this planet, as there's not much but water round the tropics. That being the case, it's freezing cold here half the ruttin' year, and from what you can hear told, mud the other half. This here is the freezing part. This street is all snow and ice, but the buildings ain't bad.

Kaylee, Mal, and Simon are along, loaded down with bags of this and that -- clothes for the wedding ball, electronics parts for the heist, groceries.

"If it isn't Simon!"

There's some little bit of a woman shouting from the other side of the street. Simon doesn't even look up and we all figure it must be someone else she's shouting at. But no.

"Simon Tam!"

She pushes her way out of the crowd on her side of the street and runs towards us. She's one good-looking girl, too, if you like 'em bundled up in a lot of furs and capes and with twinkly crap all over their boots. Simon doesn't look too delighted to see her, but the next minute she's hugging him and he kind of pats her shoulder.

"Everyone, this is Lucy," he says. "She was in my year at medical school; we were partners in neuroregeneration lab. Lucy, this is--"

Mal frowns at him.

"--this is everyone," says Simon.
You ask the questions
Can't rightly think of a thing to ask now.

"I haven't seen you in so long!" Lucy's not hugging him any more, but she's still got his arm like she's fixing to take it home with her.

"And I wasn't expecting to see anyone out here, either! I'm so far from home, it's ridiculous how lonely I get! And the weather! Snow 13 months of the year! Are you here for the Jonsdotter-Wilkes wedding? Please say yes. You're the only person on this planet that's going to know the same dances as me. Do you still tango?"

Kaylee makes a little tiny noise I might not hear if she weren't right next to me.
Joke
"Is tango a word for 'be pompous and get in the way'?" But no one is listening to me.

"I-- don't know," Simon is saying. "That is, yes. Yes, I was invited. I'll be there. Sorry, it's just such a surprise to see you again, Luce."

Lucy pouts. "If you followed the alumni newswaves, you'd've known I was living here now."

"My mail has been very erotic lately," Simon says.
You look at Simon
He's almost got an expression on. Though I ain't sure I could put a name to it.

"We'll have to catch up at the wedding," Lucy says. "I wish I could stay and trade stories now, but I'm already late--"

"--there's a first." Simon's smiling for real now. Didn't know his face muscles stretched in that direction.

"Don't be awful. I'll see you there. Save me one of your dippingest, most Argentine dances." She kisses his cheek and then she's gone again, and the air behind her smells like apples. Cold apples. The snow hasn't gone anywhere.
Cause the ruckus
"Can we get back to the ship now before we meet any more of Simon's former friends?" But as usual they're not listening to me.

"Care to explain what that was about?" Mal asks.

"What, Lucy?" Simon is still grinning a little, though it's starting to fade. "She's an old friend of mine -- well, when I say friend, we kind of -- that is, we were never actually -- but I think she wanted -- if we hadn't been so busy we probably would have -- I mean I thought about --"

Mal interrupts. "She gonna turn you in? What with the price on your head, and all. We didn't plan on people hereabout knowing your name."

"Lucy? She wouldn't. Besides, it didn't seem like she knows about that."
Joke
"Stands to reason she'd warn you if she was planning to turn you over to the feds."

Mal gives me a very warning kind of look and I remember that might not be the best topic of conversation to be raising at this particular juncture.

"That ain't our only concern," Mal says. "What I'm curious about is why you and 'Nara told me you had this job scoped out, you neglected to notice your old girlfriend on the guest list. And how you planned on playing your part in this escapade when she's going to be limpeted onto your side demanding another Argentine waltz every two minutes."

"Tango," Simon mutters. "I promise you, Mal, we checked that list in triple. She must have been added late."
You ask the questions
"What's a tango?"

No answer.

"This is just dandy," Mal says. "Someone want to explain to me how the plan is going to work now? We need me and Zoe on the pickup, and Wash and Book got to stay with the ship, whilst now it appears that Simon has to attend this party but not be of any use."

Simon's jaw is working and he keeps kicking at the snow with the toe of his boot.
Joke
"Don't see how Simon being no use is any different from any other time he's been along."

"Jayne," Mal says. "You're going to get yourself up in fancy clothes and you're going to go to this thing. Be better at the security part than Simon anyhow."

I get my ten percent for shooting things, not for dressing up like an idiot and definitely not for covering for Simon. I open my mouth to say that, but--

"You get Simon's cut, seeing as it turns out he has a social engagement for the evening of the job and won't be able to work."

Simon looks pasty and angry now. "He'll need an escort. And
table manners."
You ask the questions
"Simon can go alone, and Inara can come with me instead," I say. "Wouldn't object to some free companioning."

"Inara is already on the list as Simon's guest," says Mal. "Arrangements don't allow for changing that."

"I'll be Jayne's escort," says Kaylee. Guess she's pulled her head out of her bag now. "Did a good enough job at that ball on Persephone, didn't I? Still got the dress, even."

"Kaylee, this won't be--" Mal says, while Simon says, louder: "With Jayne?"

Kaylee comes closer to me and holds my arm tight. "It's supposed to look like this, right?"

This is my bunk. Not that you could tell that, from the quantity of gos-se thrown here and there. Piled up in here is every
garment we could find on the ship that looked like it might fit me and do well enough for the wedding banquet.
You wear the pinstripe
(first I'm gonna take the grey pair of pinstriped pants)
I put on the grey pair of pinstriped pants one leg at a time.

"Come out whenever you're done in there!" yells Zoe.

"Yeah, I'm dying to admire your sartorial splendor," says Wash.
You wear the gray shirt
(first I'm gonna take the grey scratchy shirt)
I shrug myself into the grey scratchy shirt.

"Having a little trouble in there?" Simon shouts in. "Do you need help putting on your pants?"

"Sure! Send in Inara!" I shout back.
You wear the black jacket
(the black twinkly coat)
(first I'm gonna take the black twinkly coat)
I dress, finishing a complete outfit of the black twinkly coat, the grey scratchy shirt, and the grey pair of pinstriped pants. Matching, but not too matching.
You leave
"How about this?" I ask, coming out of the room in a black twinkly coat, a grey scratchy shirt, and a grey pair of pinstriped pants.

"My little boy, all grown up. We should take pictures," says Wash.

"It doesn't exactly look tailor-made, but it should do," Simon concedes. "Now just don't say anything."

"How are we getting the painting out?" I ask.

"You're not," Mal says. "You're going to leave it there."
Cause the ruckus
"I thought Inara was on this boat to make you look
respectable, but seems to me she's making you be respectable.
And respectable's not what I can take a cut of."

Mal looks me in the eye. "You don't take anything out. There's too much security in the way. All you do is get back into the Display Room and tag the back of the painting with a micro-sized locator. That way you don't have to shut down the whole security system, just the one panel that senses if you take the painting off the wall. When you're done tagging, you turn security back on and everything looks right and shiny."

Simon arrives from the passenger area. He's dressed real formally in black suit and a white shirt I'm sure wasn't on him when I went through his luggage that time him and River got taken by hill-folk. Guess he's been doing some shopping.

He's also putting on some kind of lipstick.
You wait for a while
Might as well stay quiet and see what happens next.

Mal goes on. "When the painting is moved for assessment and storage -- which is scheduled to happen in the small hours of the morning -- we'll be able to trace it. Doing the trace during the wedding means there's the least chance for them to find the tag and take it off again.

"Simon and Inara scoped out this security team, worked out their habits. They'll be using several decoy transports for a cargo this valuable, but if we know which transport is the right one, we can lift the painting from there."

Inara and Kaylee arrive at last, both dressed up and glossy. "Good, appears that the primping and fussin' is over," says Mal.

"You both look very nice," says Book.

"Ain't got all night," says Mal. And so we're off.

"Bad news," Kaylee says, coming to my elbow and talking low. "I had to ditch the tool kit in the potted plant by the door."

I've been this side of security for ten minutes already, and I'm already wishing we were at a different party.

This room is where everyone goes after they come through security, which is before you get to the real party. The fancier the party the more rooms you need to go through to get to it, evidently. Personally I like the kind that's held outdoors.

Kaylee is standing close by.
Joke
"Sounds like there's another thing the good doctor could have warned us about, if he weren't busy romancing his old school friend."

She frowns. "Don't be mean."

"Why's he so interested in this job anyway?"

"I don't know, I think he just wants to help the captain. And I think it's nice that he does." She adjusts her big skirt with one hand. "Fancy place like this, there's going to be something we can use to jimmy the security system and reset the wires," she says. "We'll just have to keep an eye open. But I didn't have a choice. Nearly got caught with the tools on me -- I only realized at the end they were running a full P-99 entry scan on the guests, and not just for weapons neither."

"That don't seem hardly polite."

"No! It's a full-body scan -- whoever's running security sees right through your clothes."

"Everyone's?" Now that there's the kind of thing I ought to
be doing for a living.

A man in a purple jacket approaches. He's carrying a tray, and on the tray are a dozen or so full shotglasses. Stuck along the top of each one there's a metal stick with a cube of something on it.

"Ooh, tasties," Kaylee says, taking one eagerly and handing another to me. The man bows and moves away.

There's quite a pungent aroma rising from this thing.
You eat the cube
It's sort of chewy and resistant and vinegary. Like pickled radish only much nastier.

Kaylee pops hers in her mouth. "When you get it in your mouth," she says, chewing awkwardly, "you can't smell it as much."
Drink shot
*** Run-time problem P10: Since the shotglass is not allowed the property "proper utensil", it is against the rules to try to use it.

Oh, that burns. All the way down. Can feel the lining of my stomach.

This party is going to be good.

Kaylee swallows. "I think that might have been fish. Once. In
another lifetime." She tips her shotglass up and takes a long drink. Her eyes go wide again, but this time she's quieter about it.

There's a few minutes of milling around with the shotglasses, and then some men in purple uniforms tell us to go in to dinner. We've all got assigned tables. Mine and Kaylee's has got a little old lady about half the height of River, and her little old man husband who can't hear.

"Simon told us to copy the other people at our table for how to eat," Kaylee whispers to me. "But these two don't even have food."

"Not sure the old guy even has any teeth any more," I agree.

"I'll copy you, then," says Kaylee. That's helpful.

You can tell this room's expensive, because it's got a glass roof in this climate, but it's warm inside. Warm like one of those hot planet beaches. There are trees scattered around the room and lights all twinkling all over them, and fountains, just to show off how much clean water this planet's got.

The table in front of us is spread with a clothespin spoon, a laser knife, an teeny tiny fork, a metal straw, a mini-mace, a flat spade, and a plate.

Old Man Guest and Old Lady Guest in a purple dress are sitting on their side of the table, smiling and nodding at us. They ain't eating a thing. Kaylee's trying not to have to say too much. It's a real sprightly party.

The waiter serves some pea potato soup and a lavender sprig.

"This is for the aroma," says the waiter, lifting the sprig with gloved-up fingers. He tucks the lavender sprig into the clothespin of the clothespin spoon, and goes away.
You eat the soup with the spoon
(first I'm gonna take the clothespin spoon)
I take a spoonful of the soup. By itself it tastes sort of ordinary, but the smell of the lavender kind of perks it up. Kaylee takes a sip of hers with her lavender-spoon and grins at me. Should've guessed she'd like her soup with flowers on it.

Once I've got the sense of what to do I eat nice and hearty. Or as hearty as I can. They believe in small bowls on this planet.

"Good to see that our hosts are ministering to the needs of the deprived," remarks Old Man Guest. I think someone told me his name but I forgot it.

"Oh, are they?" asks Kaylee. "That's nice of them."

Old Lady Guest smiles.

Seeing that I've finished with my previous course, the ever-hovering waiters bring me a crab.
You eat the crab with the fork
(first I'm gonna take the itty-bitty fork)
I dig the teeny tiny fork into the crab and manage to pull out a strip of the meat, and then another. It's... actually very good. Kind of sweet. Doesn't take long to fork out all the meat inside.

Seeing that I've finished with my previous course, the ever-hovering waiters bring me some carrot juice.
You drink the juice with the straw
(first I'm gonna take the metal straw)
Maybe the straw interfered in some fashion but what I'm tasting here is carrots plus some kind of citrusy thing.

Seeing that I've finished with my previous course, the ever-hovering waiters bring me a green glass dome.
You hit the dome with the mace
(first I'm gonna take the mini-mace)
One good whack with the miniature mace and the dome cracks open and falls apart in a dozen or so curved shards. I could get used to the smashing-things method of eating. Suits me.
You eat the fish with the shard
(first I'm gonna take the shards of culinary glass)
The fish tastes a tiny bit metallic, and then the flavor of the glass shard makes it all tangy and hot.

The next thing out is a cube of meat, just one not-very-big cube, skewered on the end of a long wire thing that stands up from the table. It's like food on an antenna.
You eat cube
I lean in close and bite the meat right off its antenna. Now this wouldn't be half bad if there were about fifty more of these little cubes. As it is... you call that a dish? Wonder if I could get someone else's cube too.

Seeing that I've finished with my previous course, the ever-hovering waiters bring me a cool white yogurt.
You eat the yogurt
(with my hands)
Had a cat once that would dip its paw in a glass of water and then lick off the drops. Didn't seem sanitary.
You eat the yogurt with the spoon
I spoon up the yogurt in the clothespin spoon. It tastes like a confused combination of potato soup, cheese, and lettucey bits, plus flowers. Think I was supposed to do this some other way, but I don't much care.

The waiter brings, last, a chocolate sphere. It's all round and glossy like a ball, until he pours some kind of hot sauce over it. Then it melts partly away right there on the plate. He also gives me a plain ordinary spoon like any old ordinary person might use. Don't see why we couldn't have gotten one of those sooner.

Old Man Guest turns to his wife. "Odd that we were fobbed off with this table," he says too loudly. "I wonder who was in charge of the seating arrangements. And whether they were revised badly at the last minute."

"I did think we were supposed to be at the Glitnirs' table," agrees his wife. "But then we wouldn't have met these charming people." She practically has to shout that last part for him to hear it.

"I admire your good heart, my dear," he says.
You get all
flat spade: Got it.
plate: Got it.
ordinary spoon: Got it.
chocolate sphere: Got it.
dining antenna: I go to pick up the antenna, but one of the waiters leans over on my right. "Sir, the antenna is already adjusted to its ideal height."

That's good to know.
You eat chocolate with the ordinary spoon
Gorram that's strong. There's chocolate, and some round red fruits I don't think I ever saw before, but mostly a lot of hot alcohol.

There's a bunch of fooferaw after that: dinner's over but they've got speeches, and toasts, and some man with flowers on his hat gets up and tells some stories about a dog he had, who is like the bride somehow.

Kaylee gets all happy and misty about that, so it must've been a good dog story. Don't much care about the things myself.

After a good long time, though, we're allowed to leave the tables, and then it's all guests circulating and some of them dancing. Which is the time for me and Kaylee to make our move.

We're headin' into the hallway toward the display room when Kaylee gestures for me to hold still.

I hear Lucy say, "So tell me, Simon Tam: what did you do to get the Alliance chasing you and that price on your head?"

This is a long, important-looking hallway. We were here before, during the public viewing of the bride price. The display room is just off to the east.

Next to the doorway east, there's a security panel set into the wall.

Lucy and Simon are a little way down the dim hall; Lucy has her back to us, but I think Simon knows we're here. Kaylee is beside me.
Joke
Yeah, this whole situation is hi-larious.

"I used to," Lucy says. "I carried you around in my heart for years."

Simon says something under his breath, too low to hear over the music.

"Not saying I was lonely for company," she replies. "But you were always... the one that didn't happen. There's a glow in that."

"If I told you, you'd be in danger," says Simon. "Trust me, this is not something you want to be a part of."

"That's the problem, Simon," she says. "My feelings aren't reliable, and that's all I've got going for you."
You look at the panel
This is obviously the access controlling the security in the Display Room. It's locked, but not very well. I should be able to jimmy it open, given something long and thin.

I'm really having to struggle to hear Lucy now, but she's still talking: "Everything else -- logic, common sense -- say turn you in. Let your trial sort it out if you're innocent."

"Oh, yes: trust the system rather than a person you know. That always works brilliantly."

"I want to trust you," she says.

Simon's looking down into her face very oddly. Fool boy looks like he's about to kiss her. On the mouth.
You look at what you're carrying with you
I've got on me :
a dining antenna
a plate
some shards of culinary glass
a black twinkly coat (being worn)
a grey scratchy shirt (being worn)
a grey pair of pinstriped pants (being worn)
a grey pair of faded underpants (being worn)
gold-plated utensils (flat spade, toy-sized fork, clothespin spoon, ordinary spoon, laser knife, mini-mace, and metal straw)

Simon finishes bending down and kisses Lucy on the lips. Kaylee stands next to me, speechless. Her mouth is moving with things she wants to say, but nothing comes out.

Then Lucy slumps to the ground. Simon glances up past her at us. He looks embarrassed.
Jimmy panel with antenna
Might as well wait until the good doctor is out of the way.

Kaylee turns to Simon. "This part of the job, we can do. You should be out there looking pretty."

"Yes," Simon says. "Because society is proving such a comfortable place just now."

"You could dance with Inara," I say. "Probably worth a hundred credits a dance."

"More, I imagine." He looks at Kaylee like he's got something else to say to her.

"Three of us back here are a lot harder to explain than two," she says. "Me and Jayne, we might've just snuck back here for a romantic moment. Seems to be popular."

"Fine, I'm going." And he does -- after dragging his sleeping ex-girlfriend into a side room. Then me and Kaylee have the hallway to ourselves so we can do what we like.
Jimmy panel with antenna
I bend the end of the antenna a little and then poke it into the lock hole. It resists a bit, but with a bit of work I'm able to pop the panel open.

Inside there's a whole mess of wires.

"We need to sever that wire." Kaylee points. It's too far up for her to reach easy, or she'd probably insist on doing it herself. But I can see what she means.

"That's all?"

"We'll have to reattach the ends again later so they don't notice the security is humped. But we'll come back to that when we're done."
You recharge knife with the battery
That first word, you get that from the Doctor? It don't mean anything I know.
Charge knife
Again with the funny commands.
You open the knife
I unscrew the battery compartment at the end of the handle. There's a depleted battery inside.
You put the juiced battery in the knife
(first I'm gonna take the juiced battery)

The battery's sewn in pretty good. I'd need something at least a little bit poky to unpick the stitches.
You cut the stitches with the knife
I slip the pointiest part of the laser knife into the stitches and pull them a bit loose. Then I give the battery a good hard tug and it comes free from the coat.
You put the juiced battery in the knife
Done.
You close the knife
I screw the battery compartment shut on the juiced battery.
You cut wire with the laser
Very very carefully, I slice through the right wire and cut away a little of the shielding.

There's a faint thunk from within the wall.

"That should do it," Kaylee says.
Dance
Again with the funny commands.
Look around
This is a long, important-looking hallway. We were here before, during the public viewing of the bride price. The display room is just off to the east.

Next to the doorway east, there's a security panel set into the wall. The security panel contains some wires.

I can also see Kaylee here.
Joke
Yeah, this whole situation is hi-larious.
Go east
Kaylee comes along.

The room's about as big as Serenity's dining area, and it's stacked full of boxes. The boxes make an aisle from the front of the room to the back, and on the back wall is hanging that strange-ass painting.

Also nearby: Kaylee.

"We need this down from the wall," Kaylee says, lifting the painting down and setting it so that we can get at the back of the frame.

"We've got to put a little hole in the wood," she says. "We don't need much, the tag's not but a couple of millimeters across. But we need to bury it in organic material or it'll be easier for them to find, even not knowing the frequency to wake it up."

She gives me the tag.
You check what you're carrying
I've got on me :
a tracking tag
a depleted battery
a dining antenna
a plate
some shards of culinary glass
a black twinkly coat (being worn)
a grey scratchy shirt (being worn)
a grey pair of pinstriped pants (being worn)
a grey pair of faded underpants (being worn)
gold-plated utensils (flat spade, itty-bitty fork, clothespin spoon, ordinary spoon, laser knife, mini-mace, and metal straw)
You hit the wood with the mace
I hit the frame hard with the mini-mace. That suffices to put a neat little pinhole in the wood.
You put the tag in hole
Done.

"We're done in here," says Kaylee. "Now we just need to fix the security panel again, and we can go." She motions with her head towards the exit.
Exit
"Here," says Kaylee, lifting the painting back into its place. "Now it'll look like no one touched a thing."

Kaylee comes along.

This is a long, important-looking hallway. We were here before, during the public viewing of the bride price. The display room is just off to the east.

Next to the doorway east, there's a security panel set into the wall. In the security panel are some wires.

Also nearby: Kaylee.

"If I hadn't had to leave my tools, I could patch this up real quick, make it look like we were never even here," Kaylee says, looking ruefully at the nest of severed wires.
You put the clothespin on the wires
(first removing the lavender sprig)
I'm not sure it's going to fit at first, but I manage to jam the little clothespin spoon into the box and clip the wires together with the clothespin. Kaylee's giggling.

"Think it won't work?"

"No, we've done worse patch jobs on Serenity," she says. "As long as you can close the panel with the spoon in it."
Close panel
I push the security panel shut and it clicks in place. The spoon doesn't jam it at all.

"Lock it back up, and we'll be ready to go," Kaylee says.
You lock it back up
I got you as far as saying we should lock the security panel.
Cause the ruckus
"What the-- why'd we lift this thing if you don't have a buyer? Damn, no one learn anything from the Lassiter job? This painting's not 'xactly the kind of object you can just fence off on market day round the next cattle town."

"Now that is definitely true," says Mal. "Though we might be able to get something for the frame -- what do you think?"

Simon gives it a long look, then shrugs. "It's not in the best of taste by today's standards. Maybe five, ten credits?"

"Nobody's selling nothing until someone tells me what is going on here."

"We've been paid," says Simon, still all calm. "Not perhaps on the scale you were imagining, but quite a bit more than the average job this bird pulls off. You can even keep the painting if you want. Put it in your bunk. It's just a copy, though, I ought to warn you."
Joke
Yeah, this whole situation is hi-larious.

"Actually," says Inara, "the whole job was by the bride's arrangement."

"Sensible thing if you ask me," says Zoe. "I wouldn't want that creepy-ass scene hanging on my bedroom wall either."

"You see," says Inara, "the bride and the groom are very much in love. Unfortunately, the groom's family -- who live in a different system, by the way -- they're not wealthy enough to offer the sort of price the bride's family would approve of."

"And that's where we come in," says Mal. "The groom's family sends a fake valuable painting, the bride's family puts it on display, and then after the ceremony--"

"--but before anyone has time to get a second assessment done--" Simon adds.

"--it is mysteriously stolen. Everyone blames her family's security, the bride and groom get to stay married."

"Very romantic," says Wash.

"It is at that," says Zoe. "Honey, how come you didn't buy me a nice swindle for our wedding?"

Well, wound up with 15% of something, at least.
You ask the questions
"But -- who paid us? Someone got it in for the bride and groom?"

"Actually," says Inara, "the whole job was by the bride's arrangement."

"Sensible thing if you ask me," says Zoe. "I wouldn't want that creepy-ass scene hanging on my bedroom wall either."

"You see," says Inara, "the bride and the groom are very much in love. Unfortunately, the groom's family -- who live in a different system, by the way -- they're not wealthy enough to offer the sort of price the bride's family would approve of."

"And that's where we come in," says Mal. "The groom's family sends a fake valuable painting, the bride's family puts it on display, and then after the ceremony--"

"--but before anyone has time to get a second assessment done--" Simon adds.

"--it is mysteriously stolen. Everyone blames her family's security, the bride and groom get to stay married."

"Very romantic," says Wash.

"It is at that," says Zoe. "Honey, how come you didn't buy me a nice swindle for our wedding?"

Well, wound up with 15% of something, at least.