DISCLAIMER: You know what goes here...

A/N: So, this has nothing to do with the main plot, but I've been listening to "Mushroom Samba" a lot lately, and this struck me funny.


Faint elevator music piped through the speakers in the ceiling. A digital counter high on the wall blinked in a bored manner. 36, 37. 36, 37. The small waiting area of the New Bering Spaceport DPSS office was gray and beige drab, just like every other waiting room in the universe.

Looking around Spike let loose a sigh and studied the other occupants of the room. One young man sat playing a video game, every now and then glancing p at the counter. An older woman sat, purse in lap, ticket in hand. She kept looking up at the counter, then down at her ticket, as though willing one or the other to change. Leaning back in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him, Spike laid his head back to look behind him. He grimaced as he saw a young Goth couple playing tonsil hockey. Leaning back a little farther to sneak a better look, Spike raised an eyebrow at the guy's chutzpah as he reached up the girl's shirt.

His gut twisted as they broke a part for a moment and smiled, seeming genuinely happy together. Spike sat forward and ran a hand through his hair, dying for a cigarette and ignoring the face that smiled in his mind. He glanced back over his shoulder, and had to laugh at the irony of a happy Goth couple.

Looking over his other shoulder, to the far corner, Spike noticed three old guys gathered around a checkers board, each man holding his on ticket. They grumbled and argued amongst themselves. Spike chuckled at them and slumped back in his seat, bored. He snuck one last look at the couple, and, pushing sapphire eyes from his mind, turned his attention back to the counter. It simply continued its lethargic counting. 37, 37.

Spike leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, looking down at his ticket. A groan of dismay escaped him.

"Damn."

86.

With a deep sigh, Spike closed his eyes and leaned back once more, stretching his legs out for a nap.

"This is going to take a while."


On the Bebop

Entering the sitting area, Tilly rubbed the water from her hair and hummed a lilting tune. A long hot bath with a good book had done a ton of good and the letters Annie smuggled though from the twins had worked a miracle. A tremendous weight seemed to have been lifted from her shoulders, which themselves seemed looser than they had been in weeks. The twins were healthy and happy, and Tilly could only be happy for them. She longed to write back, but that would have been too dangerous- for Annie, the kids, and everyone on the Bebop.

As Tilly descended the stairs she was sturck by how quiet the room was. Jet sat playing solitaire and Faye was simply doing her nails. Tilly waited for Faye to lift the brush from her nails before sitting beside her.

"Thanks," she said though the cigarette between her teeth. Tilly grunted a response and took a look at her own nails. Short enough to be functional, and almost long enough to be feminine. The "sport" length, as most salons called them. Pulling her feet up onto the edge of the table Tilly examined her toes. With a sigh she realized there was no point in trying to make them pretty. Dropping her feet to the floor she leaned forward to wrap her hair in a towel-turban.

Ed danced in with Einstein, singing about 'Big Shot', her favorite show. Exchanging a look with Jet Tilly leaned back and watched along with Ed.

"Welcome, pard'ners! You-all know what time it is?" The Mexican cowboy looked as ridiculous as ever. Punch always reminds Tilly of this crazy cowboy your dad had trained years ago. This guy had been good, but wacko. What was his name?

"No," the blonde squealed, riding in on her stuffed horse. "I don't have a watch!"

Punch gave her a double-take and pinched the bridge of his nose to fight off a headache.

"No, Judy," he shook his head. "It's time for the 'Bounty of the Day'!" Rallying his spirits heroically, Punch waved an arm to the left and the camera panned to the Big Shot big screen. "Today's 'bounty of the day' is a master criminal!"

The image of a man with dark eyes filled the screen. Tilly, Ed and Faye all froze, lost in the depths of is eyes. Jet looked around at the three women, confused at their reaction, but none of them noticed. Tilly didn't know why, but he seemed to be calling her to him, asking i her /i to come find him. Slowly, the rest of his face registered. Dark red hair in a stylish cut, a strong square jaw and the merest hint of a smirk all worked to create an attractive man, but the eyes… the eyes pulled Tilly in. They were a dark brown, almost black, and she felt herself falling in.

"Faye?" Tilly wanted to know her plan, because this would not be a safe man to chase. Faye generally came up with a plan for the pretty-boys.

"Careful, ladies!" Judy continued. "This man is a known heart-breaker. He's wanted for robbery, dealing in Red-Eye, and is suspected of working as an assassin for hire. He's known to have dealings with the Syndicate and with the Mars government on Titan."

"Best leave this one to the men, then! Ha-ha- Oww!" Punch's laughter was cut short by a smack in the face from Judy.

"Go get him, ladies! Just be careful."

The show ended, and Jet turned the screen off. Silence fell as nobody moved.

"Faye," Tilly asked once more, wanting to know the plan.

"Go get him, lady," she responded, returning her attention to her toes. "Just be careful."

Tilly stared at Faye in surprise before turning to meet Jet's gaze.

"I'll meet you in the hangar." Jet stood and stretched. "Ed, get looking."

"Righty-oh!" Ed jumped up and began zooming around with her arms out like an airplane. "Pretty bounty! Ed will find him!"

Jet sighed and shook his head. "This is going to be a long day."


New Bering Spaceport

Spike had read the DPSS Travel hints pamphlet eight timed already, and was about to start reading it again. He looked up at the wall once more, the sixth time in as many minutes. 41, 41. The lethargic blinking that had at first been merely quaint was now simply mocking him. Spike took a deep breath and opened the pamphlet once more.

b Welcome happy traveler to the New Bering Spaceport office of the Department of Public Space Safety. By reading this pamphlet you have demonstrated your desire to be a careful and conscientious traveler in our universe. We must all make the effort to be as cautious and – /b

Spike's communicator beeped. "Thank God!" He tossed the pamphlet aside and pulled his communicator from his pocket.

"Yeah?"

"Spike," Tilly's face filled the screen. "We have a bounty here in New Bering. Jet and I are going after him. We could use your – Andy!" Tilly smacked her head and breathed a sigh of relief.

"What?" Spike's eyes opened wide. "That lunatic isn't here is he?"

"Huh?" Tilly frowned in confusion. "No, sorry. I was trying all day long to remember this guys name, and-"

"Is that Spike?" Jet's voice was faint over the communicator.

"Yeah," she replied. Spike rolled his eyes at the insanity of the conversation, but was grateful for the distraction. The picture suddenly swirled, and Jet's face came into focus.

"Spike, are you done yet? We need you."

Spike looked up at the wall. 41, 42. 41, 42. He sighed yet again, and shook his head.

"No, I'm still waiting.

Tilly grabbed the com and Spike was surprised to notice her hair was down. "We're going to start. Call us when you're done."

"Who's the bounty?" Spike was curious why she was wearing lipstick.

"He's an all around bad-ass," Jet answered, opening his com to create a split-screen. "Drugs, armed robbery, hired assassin for the Syndicate."

"His name is Eamon O'Mara," Tilly broke in. "He looks familiar."

Spike nodded and glanced back at the counter. 42, 42.

"Just be careful."