Mal: Reavers ain’t men – or they forgot how to be.
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Simon: What about us?
Mal: Kaylee comes through, you and your sister get off at Whitefall.
Simon: If she doesn’t come through?
Mal: Well, then you’re gettin’ off a mite sooner.
Simon: Need a weave on that?
Mal: It’s nothin’.
Simon: I expect there’s someone’s face feels differently.
Mal: I know they tell ya, you never hit a man with a closed fist, but it is, on occasion, hilarious.
Mal: It sounds like the finest party I can imagine getting paid to go to.
Inara: I don’t suppose you’d find it up to the standards of your outings. More conversation, and somewhat less… petty theft and getting hit with pool cues.
Mal: This is the last time. Last time with cows. Hey, there was an idea regarding beagles? They have smallish droppings?
Zoe: I believe so, sir. Also, your disreputable men are here.
Mal: Better go take their money.
Book: If you take sexual advantage of her, you’re going to burn in a very special level of Hell. A level they reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theater.