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.

Shindig

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Mal: Can’t get paid if you’re dead.
Jayne: Can’t get paid if you crawl away like a bitty little bug neither. I got a share of this job! Ten percent of nothin’ is – let me do the math here – nothin’ into nothin’, carry the…

Mal: Now I did a job. I got nothing but trouble since I did it, not to mention more than a few unkind words as regard to my character, so let me make this abundantly clear. I do the job. And then I get paid.

Sheriff: It’s funny your uncle never went to mentioning the Bowden’s problem. Or that Joey Bloggs ate his own gun, about eight months back.
Mal: Did he?
Sheriff: Yep. Blew the back of his head right off.
Mal: So… would his job be open?

Sir Warrick: You didn’t have to wound that man.
Mal: Yeah, I know. It was just funny.

Gabriel Tam: Have you completely lost your mind?
Simon: Pretty nearly.
Gabriel Tam: We got the wave at the Friedlichs. I had to leave your mother at the dinner table!
Simon: I’m sorry, Dad. You know I would never have tried to save River’s life if I had known there was a dinner party at risk!