Mal: That poor bastard you took off my ship. He looked right into the face of it. Was made to stare.
Harken: “It”?
Mal: The darkness. Kind of darkness you can’t even imagine. Blacker than the space it moves through.
Harken: Very poetic.
Mal: They made him watch. He probably tried to turn away, and they wouldn’t let him. You call him a survivor? He’s not. A man comes up against that kind of will, the only way to deal with it, I suspect, is to become it.

Bushwhacked
tagged: evil, torture

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Kaylee: Well, we’re headed for help… right?
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Kaylee: That’s good. Right?
Zoe: Possibly you’re not recalling some of his previous plans.

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Mal: Ah, he’s not the first psycho to hire us, nor the last. You think that’s a commentary on us?

Mal: Okay, help me find our man. He’s supposed to be older, kind of stocky, wears a red sash crossways.
Kaylee: Why does he do that?
Mal: Maybe he won the Miss Persephone pageant. Just help me look.
Kaylee: Is that him?
Mal: That’s the buffet table.
Kaylee: Well, how can we be sure, unless we question it?
Mal: Fine. Don’t make yourself sick.

Shindig

Jayne: “Dear Diary: Today I was pompous and my sister was crazy. Today we were kidnapped by hill folk, never to be seen again. It was the best day ever.”