Remix: Directions (The Overseas Aid Remix) [Zoë/Wash, semi-OCs, 516 words, rated G], by lotus0kid
Eulalie Nayong has been around long enough to know a cry for help when she sees it. This one she picks up from all the way down the street. The young couple is not having a good night. The nervous man orbits the statuesque woman like a terrier does a greyhound, sometimes scouting a few steps ahead or dashing back to glance down a side street, but always returning to her side. For the woman’s part, she walks straight and sure, though not as if she knows where she’s going. Eulalie takes notice of her fine but fixed features. If that was her expression through dinner, then this young man doesn’t stand a chance in dí yú. Still, Eulalie would like to do her part. From her wicker chair, she coughs.
“Oh!” the man starts, “Hello, ma’am. Um,” he performs an exaggerated shrug, “We are so lost.”
In more ways than one, sugarpie, Eulalie thinks as she levers herself up. “I believe I could help you with that, young sir. Won’t you and your friend come inside?”
Suspicion sours the woman’s sculpted face, but the man is already agreeing with obvious relief. Eulalie leads them up the steps and into her caravan. As she pours cups of tea the woman tries to refuse, the man pours out their troubles. Their names are Zoë and Wash. They’ve got a ship in the repair docks, a faulty communicator, and a questionable dinner settling as uncomfortably as Zoë does in Eulalie’s admittedly small kitchen. Zhán Shí has taken a shine to her leg and rubs against it with a downright obscene purr which she stoically ignores. Eulalie will have to bring out the big guns to crack this nut. She goes for the capture albums.
“Here’s my dear son Jeb. He’ll be by soon and he can take you wherever it is y’all need to go. Ain’t he a fine figure of a man? Almost as jié as you, Wash.” Zoë would have to be blind not to notice how nice a pink blush looks on her suitor’s cheeks.
“Zoë honey, I don’t think you can rightly see from over there. How ‘bout you take this seat by Wash? I’m sure he won’t bite.” There’s an acceptable amount of shy excitement mixed with reluctance in Zoë’s expression as she moves closer.
“Here’s Jeb and Mariah’s wedding day- oh, how lovely it was!” Eulalie’s never been so happy for the inches Mariah has on her husband, or her curly brown ringlets, or the darkish tint to her skin. There’s a definite frission in the couple beside her as they look at the couple in the capture.
“Momma?” Jeb’s voice floats in from the doorway, soon followed by the rest of him, “Hey, Momma, catch a few unsuspecting flies in your web?”
“Well can you blame me for gettin’ lonely waiting on you to keep me company?” Eulalie retorts. Soon enough, she’s herding Zoë and Wash back outside and into Jeb’s mule. When Eulalie spots Wash helping Zoë to a seat, it’s all she can do not to crow in triumph.