That's how Wash holds himself back, hearing the way some of the soldiers around camp call and jeer at her. She's strong, capable, doesn't need someone to defend her pride or honor, least of all him, but he can't help but keep an ear open anyway, can't help but feel an awful lurch in his gut and a twitch of his fingers against his side when he sees a soldier loop an arm around her waist. The way they talk to her, the way he leers, not to mention what he says. Cry to the mutie. One fucking guess who that means. Wash is already not quite in the mood for diplomatic talking-down, but he keeps an eye on them from where he is, and it seems like that's crossed a line with Lakshmi with the way she reacts, all that coiled tension releasing all at once, the eye of the storm passing over until this poor soldier's caught in the hurricane. Part of him might be thinking of stepping in to try and pull her off of him, but, ah. Not just yet. Lakshmi is hardly someone he can really make that demand of, for one, but most importantly? Hell if that bastard doesn't deserve at least some of what's coming to him.
Wash's attention is elsewhere, anyway, doesn't linger long on the man on the ground as he makes some awful gurgling almost-scream, instinctively watching for his friends. They do stagger forward, wide-eyed, some of them in surprise and uncertain fear and others in anger. Still, Wash holds his distance, right up until they start to move towards her, right up until there's a flash of steel, a gleam of it in the night, some idiot fucking drunk soldier actually drawing a sword on her.
Forgive him for interrupting, he has little doubt she'd have been able to handle this on her own, but Wash is immediately there, standing at her back. Unarmed brawls between soldiers are one thing, drawing a fucking weapon is another, and Wash answers it in kind -- the soldier was clearly drunk and unsteady on his feet, had just swung his blade in some clumsy arc, some attempt at intimidation more than an attack, yelling out at that damned bitch to back the fuck down. Wash had been more than fast enough to step in and catch the blade, not with his own sword but with a knife he always hides on his person, steel against steel, his gaze narrowed. ]
Are you all really so pathetic that you're only able to fight her by drawing a sword at her back? [ Cold, sharp, turning the knife in his hand, the blade catching against the soldier's sword just enough to give him a bit of purchase as he shoves him back, forces him a few steps away, back towards his other friends. He spins the knife in his hand, a clear gesture, showy. He knows what he's fucking doing. If it's a fight they want, they'll get it. ] Get in line and wait your damn turn. I'm sure she'll be happy to see to you, too, once she's done with your friend.
[ Another gurgling, pained cry. Wash turns his head slightly, not quite enough to look back at her but enough to see her out of the corner of his eye, still watching the soldiers, mostly. Fucking idiots. They should back down while they can. ]
Take your time. [ Directed at Lakshmi. She's already started, there's no point in trying to stop her even if Wash wanted to. Might as well take the chance to make a point with these Vorbarra soldiers, and well, maybe he might be able to stop this from breaking out into a larger fight. That one soldier might have to suffer plenty for it, but, ah. Wash isn't really that much of a saint and can't exactly bring himself to feel too bad about it, right now. ]
sugar we're going down swinging...
That's how Wash holds himself back, hearing the way some of the soldiers around camp call and jeer at her. She's strong, capable, doesn't need someone to defend her pride or honor, least of all him, but he can't help but keep an ear open anyway, can't help but feel an awful lurch in his gut and a twitch of his fingers against his side when he sees a soldier loop an arm around her waist. The way they talk to her, the way he leers, not to mention what he says. Cry to the mutie. One fucking guess who that means. Wash is already not quite in the mood for diplomatic talking-down, but he keeps an eye on them from where he is, and it seems like that's crossed a line with Lakshmi with the way she reacts, all that coiled tension releasing all at once, the eye of the storm passing over until this poor soldier's caught in the hurricane. Part of him might be thinking of stepping in to try and pull her off of him, but, ah. Not just yet. Lakshmi is hardly someone he can really make that demand of, for one, but most importantly? Hell if that bastard doesn't deserve at least some of what's coming to him.
Wash's attention is elsewhere, anyway, doesn't linger long on the man on the ground as he makes some awful gurgling almost-scream, instinctively watching for his friends. They do stagger forward, wide-eyed, some of them in surprise and uncertain fear and others in anger. Still, Wash holds his distance, right up until they start to move towards her, right up until there's a flash of steel, a gleam of it in the night, some idiot fucking drunk soldier actually drawing a sword on her.
Forgive him for interrupting, he has little doubt she'd have been able to handle this on her own, but Wash is immediately there, standing at her back. Unarmed brawls between soldiers are one thing, drawing a fucking weapon is another, and Wash answers it in kind -- the soldier was clearly drunk and unsteady on his feet, had just swung his blade in some clumsy arc, some attempt at intimidation more than an attack, yelling out at that damned bitch to back the fuck down. Wash had been more than fast enough to step in and catch the blade, not with his own sword but with a knife he always hides on his person, steel against steel, his gaze narrowed. ]
Are you all really so pathetic that you're only able to fight her by drawing a sword at her back? [ Cold, sharp, turning the knife in his hand, the blade catching against the soldier's sword just enough to give him a bit of purchase as he shoves him back, forces him a few steps away, back towards his other friends. He spins the knife in his hand, a clear gesture, showy. He knows what he's fucking doing. If it's a fight they want, they'll get it. ] Get in line and wait your damn turn. I'm sure she'll be happy to see to you, too, once she's done with your friend.
[ Another gurgling, pained cry. Wash turns his head slightly, not quite enough to look back at her but enough to see her out of the corner of his eye, still watching the soldiers, mostly. Fucking idiots. They should back down while they can. ]
Take your time. [ Directed at Lakshmi. She's already started, there's no point in trying to stop her even if Wash wanted to. Might as well take the chance to make a point with these Vorbarra soldiers, and well, maybe he might be able to stop this from breaking out into a larger fight. That one soldier might have to suffer plenty for it, but, ah. Wash isn't really that much of a saint and can't exactly bring himself to feel too bad about it, right now. ]