realmrsreynolds: (considering)
Sallie has a kind of alert system in place, Bar in her head and all, when folk walk through the Door that she needs or would want to see. If it's a need, the image that comes to the fore is more immediate - that time Malcolm decided to get himself shot literally in the foot for example. All tinged in red and throbbing like.

If it's a want, it's softer - warm lights from the bar tinting Sam Winchester's cheeks foreign colors as he walks in.

"Been forever!" Sallie chirps to herself, untying the apron strings at her back and leaving her suite for the main bar.
realmrsreynolds: (considering)
Sallie normally doesn't hold with firearms. But, Malcolm asked a favor, and she's perfectly able to clean some of the auxiliary weapons Malcolm needs to prep a job.

So cue old lady, fingers dipped in gun oil, staring at gun parts like a ingredients in a recipe.
realmrsreynolds: (stop and smell the flowers)
It's easy to fall into a routine, especially when you are retired.

(That's an odd word. "Retired". How do you retire from something that you never considered a job, but your life? If you retire from life, what's the opposite if you're still above ground?)

Living with Splinter 24/7 ends up being easier than Sallie originally imagined that it would be. Minor hiccups here and there, but what else is to be expected from two people literally from two different universes?

Now if only Sallie can talk Splinter into DVRing some of those shows of his so they could have lunch at a decent hour...









A random Tuesday, Sallie comes home from seeing one of the doctors in the infirmary, grimacing and carrying a folder.

"How was your shift?"

"Oh, just fine, bao bei. Nothin' entertaining to report."







The folder gets shoved in a drawer of Sallie's nightstand, and Sallie attempts very earnestly to forget about it.
realmrsreynolds: (dame in a skirt)
Sallie comes back from Shadow with a small duffel bag with a few odds and ends from the house. The only visible expression is a heavier exhale than might be average.

There's just one other thing.

Sallie puts her duffel bag down and turns to the Door. Twists the doorknob, opens the door.

It's Serenity. One of the passenger bunks, it looks like.

"Okay. That's enough."





Sallie opens the door to her suite, placing her bag down just inside the door.

"Splinter? I'm back."

On Shadow.

Jul. 22nd, 2015 02:58 pm
realmrsreynolds: (wheat)
To be opened by:
Peter Skouris
c/o Reynolds Ranch, Jefferson District, Shadow

BILL OF SALE

Enclosed is your new title and deed to the land parcel originally attributed to Beauregard Reynolds, lot #967-15a. Sale initiated by Sallie Abigail Reynolds, accepted and filed on this date 22 July.

Congratulations on your new purchase! Please be advised that as recordation fees have already been paid, your next due date will be on 1 December.

Regards,

Daniel Desmond
District Clerk/Notary Public


----
Attached Letter:

Peter:

I know that you'd never agree to actually own this place, so I maybe went ahead and sold it to you without you really knowing about it. Consider it my last order as your boss.

I'm moved to the city to live with Splinter. It was a decision not taken lightly, given how much I've fought and bled for this place. But you've fought and bled for it too, more so than most. I love this place; I cannot see it go back to the district, and my son is not meant for a landed life.

Because I'm myself, I have a couple requests. If Malcolm or his folk need a place to stay, please help them when you can. Ownership papers still exist for River and Simon Tam; if either have need of it, they are reasonable folk and they wouldn't ask if they didn't have need.

Finally: I'm not dead. I will still see you when as can. It's simply that, for once in my life, I am going to look after my heart over my head. I thought you'd approve.

[You are the closest friend I've ever had.] Xiexie.

Sallie
realmrsreynolds: (considering)
It's definitely cold, but the wind has died down enough that Sallie is okay going outside with just her longcoat. She needs to go back to Shadow later this afternoon, but for right now she's taking a walk, remotely fascinated by the person walking with their dog out in the open area near the shooting range.
realmrsreynolds: (dame in a skirt)
Ostensibly, Sallie and Mike are supervisors of Security at Milliways, but she usually leaves it in much more capable hands (though Mike is convinced Sallie needs to learn some sort of chokehold after the bank debacle). This doesn't stop her from checking on the cells when someone stays for a longer period of time.

"Hello?"

Not that she expects and answer, but the lights above one of the cells flickers on, marking the nearest occupied.

"My name is Sallie Reynolds. Do you need anything?"
realmrsreynolds: (dame in a skirt)
Sometimes, the bar at the end of the universe - of all universes - doesn't give you quite the selection as the myriad of worlds that you can have access to when you are that bar's Barman.

"Are you sure that this is gonna work, Mike?"

Sallie is standing in Mike's suite, staring at the wall in front of them both like it's about to open up and swallow her. Which, in this case --

"Of course it will. And it'd be an easier way to stay subtle than going out the main door, if subtle's what you're still going for."

"You know it is. Your ba's such an awful man to shop for. It'd be nice to get him a little surprise." Been living together. I like shopping for folk is all.

Mike smiles, and draws the door.


Sallie's not precisely sure if Mike sent her to his New York or not, but it's close enough to the one that Sallie has visited that she doesn't look wholly out of place. (She doesn't yell at the fare machines in the subway this time either.) There is a fair amount of time spent in Williams Sonoma, but she does finally admit to herself that that store is more about herself than for Splinter, so she leaves and ends up finding a couple shops in Rockefeller Plaza that could prove fruitful. She even applauds her own forethought at bringing a charmed shopping bag, so she doesn't have to struggle with a million packages walking around the city.

It's time to hit the subway again, not wanting to walk the dozen or so blocks to her next destination, when she notices two men walk into the Cole Haan shoe store before she makes it to the door to leave. She sees the outline of the guns in their waistbands before the security guard does.

Oh gorram.
realmrsreynolds: (Default)
Sallie still keeps one room of the suite she and Splinter share very much under her thumb - the kitchen. There are little pieces that she never thought she would like here, like Splinter's very specific junk food, but it's still a kitchen that screams "well-used", for all that she's only lived here a short while.

River's expected any minute now, and Sallie's personal mission is to make sure that River (and all the crew, really) never eat anything resembling a chemical process - at least anywhere near her.
realmrsreynolds: (wheat)
Sallie wakes up in the apartment she shares with Splinter on a day that, when she opens her thoughts to Bar herself, festoons her mental faculties with doily-hearts and crèpe paper.

Good morning to you too, dear, Sallie smiles at no one. One hand goes flat on her nightstand and pulls upward to call a cup of coffee - but she rolls over again instead of sitting up to drink it. Splinter's still asleep (she thinks) and so Sallie takes the opportunity to admire the slope of his nose and the rise of cheekbone.

(She'd touch, but Sallie knows that he'd wake up then; that's not nice.)
realmrsreynolds: (wheat)
Sallie was up earlier than usual this morning, more out of some ague of restlessness rather than actual concern or unease. The kitchens seemed like a good place to spend the morning - she hasn't made bread in a while, and it'll be nice to get her hands in something a little less complicated than her thoughts have been of late.

If you stop by around lunch, there'll be whole grain loafs out of the oven.
realmrsreynolds: (stop and smell the flowers)
One day early last week, Sallie looked at Splinter across the dining table, and he looked at her.

"Party?"

"Shi a. When?"

"Some Saturday. Perhaps the next?"

"I'm not cooking."

"I do not believe it is a party if you work at it."

"Always knew I kept you around for your brains."

"I do not believe that was your opinion yesterday evening."




And the day of, there's nothing left to do in the apartment except put a new tablecloth over the table before food shows up, and Sallie ducks into a bathroom to change into clothes that don't have confectioner's sugar on them.

Welcome, all.
realmrsreynolds: (teacher!face)
Splinter doesn't really own much of anything, but whenever anyone moves - whether down the hall or across the quadrant - it's always a gargantuan rutting event.

This may be why Sallie has recused herself from the lifting and instead is making pasta salad for Splinter and the boys. Keeps her busy.

(And prevents concerned glances over any heavy thunks she hears coming from her their living room.)
realmrsreynolds: (fist)
"Home again, home again."

Sallie steps out from her pantry, Splinter following behind. Everything is where she left it, but Sallie does have to admit - she could have sworn it was earlier in the afternoon when she left.

"Excuse me for a second -- " Sallie walks to the endtable by the sliding patio door, where Skouris usually leaves any notes or status updates taken care of while Sallie is otherwise unavailable. A datapad has been left there, which is odd. Why so fancy?

Sallie picks it up, flicking it on with one thumb.




"Oh this cannot be happening. I just got here."
realmrsreynolds: (Milliways is weird so you have to laugh)
Splinter celebrated Father's Day in his own subdued way (the only one with a tiki mask was Mike; it was a calm affair), and now Sallie and Splinter are outside by the lake in a slide-rocker patio bench.

"I think we need an adventure. Don't you think?"
realmrsreynolds: (wheat)
Sallie's been having a really good couple of months. Things with Splinter are generally lovely on all counts, and all is pretty good.

Except for these past couple of weeks.

And then there was


He can feel them burning.


something awful disconcerting.

never again. never again.

And then

nothing.

"Mike?" Sallie calls out in her apartment. "Mike? Gorramit. Mike?"
realmrsreynolds: (stop and smell the flowers)
Today is Sallie's birthday, and she's not overly thrilled with that notion.

She'll live with it, though (like she does every year), and when she gets out of bed she finds that one of the Loompas has started making the birthday present deliveries earlier than usual - there is a potted mini-rosebush sitting on one of her kitchen countertops.

Dinner tomorrow? I know you must have a date tonight.
Happy birthday, Mother. Wo ai ni.

Malcolm


Sallie just laughs, sticking the card into one of the pockets of her robe as she starts to move around and make herself some morning coffee. Not a bad day's start.
realmrsreynolds: (teacher!face)
Sallie and Splinter are both people of patterns. So, when two people who live on their routines cause their routines to be altered - sometimes they merge.

In other words, Sallie is in Mike's suite with Splinter watching his stories. (They still only get parts of Sallie's attention, but she likes being with him here.)

After the credits start rolling:

"Can rats swim?"
realmrsreynolds: (Default)
Sallie is in her apartment in the Staff Wing, much like she is on any other day.

Mike, where are you? You got some time for me?

As an incentive: I've got brownies.
realmrsreynolds: (stop and smell the flowers)
"So Splinter says you were goin' to come see me at Cubefall. Why didn't you?"

It's abrupt, but Mal's always been used to his mother's questioning being just so. Especially when she explicitly goes through the trouble of leaving him a wave on Serenity instead of a note at the bar. It is ostensibly a dinner invitation though, and Mal's a sucker for food that looks like food.

"No ominous reason, Ma. I swear. My head was just elsewhere. I was out with Tequila and spent some time before goin' home. That's it."

"Well." Sallie's not sure what she expected. Not really. But, "I think I liked it better when I thought you were just busy." Instead of too distracted to say hello at your mother, she doesn't say.

But she doesn't really have to either.

"Duibuqi." It's soft but sincere. "Can I blame it on old habits?" An old line.

"What part exactly?"

That part is harder for Mal to actually answer. "Assumin' you have your own life. I think. There was Cubefall; the bar was bein'...itself. Maybe you would've been -- "

" -- too busy for you? Malcolm."

"It sounded smarter in my head."

Mother and son finish dinner fairly quietly, with more old habits in the form of Mal clearing the dishes and washing everything except for Sallie's pots. He never did wash them the way Sallie liked, and the remembrance of it makes Sallie smile.

When they settle into chairs in Sallie's living room, Mal opens his beer and adds, "Oh - did everythin' work out for Splinter?"

Sallie, due to many years of practice, does not sputter through a sip of her wine. "He chose to keep the human form. Much to my surprise, if I'm bein' completely honest about it all. He...um."

Um makes Mal's eyebrow raise and Sallie's smile is coming back to her.

"He and I...something. We went on a field trip to his New York." As if that explains everything going on here. (It doesn't.)

"So you're his reason."

"God I hope not! Not the only one, anyway. But -- " Sallie gnaws on her bottom lip slightly, wondering if this isn't too much. "I can't say I don't like being a reason someone does something, dong ma?"

Mal, for his part, takes another drag off his beer as he watches his mother nearly squirming in her seat. "It helps me that his sons are here. I do at least get that I don't need to be helped about all this, but it does. So that he's not like to leave like Joe did."

"Splinter's different."

"How?"

Wiser. Not looking for greener pastures. "He doesn't know how charming he is."


When Sallie closes the door after her son exits -- "'Nara and I'll have you over on Wednesday, if that's amenable?" -- she has laundry to put away before going to Shadow for the night. Her last dress is hung up in her closet; Sallie has to sit on the bed to reach under it for her shoes. The change in perspective puts a small framed picture directly into view - one of herself and Splinter in New York, with Splinter holding up two fingers behind her head with one of his nearly-stoic half-smiles.

Sallie only stops beaming at the picture when she lets out an entirely too girlish squeak, clamping her hand down tightly over her mouth as if anyone might actually hear her.

She can't believe herself. She can't believe this.

But she's not going to shy away from it. Not this time.
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