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
tagged: appearance, food

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Mal: Did you send word to Patience?
Wash: Ain’t heard back yet. Didn’t she shoot you one time?
Mal: Everybody’s makin’ a fuss.

Simon: I’m trying to put this as delicately as I can. How do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?
Mal: You don’t know me, son, so let me explain this to you once. If I ever kill you you’ll be awake. You’ll be facing me. And you’ll be armed.
Simon: Are you always this sentimental?
Mal: I had a good day.
Simon: You had the Alliance on you. Criminals and savages. Half the people on the ship have been shot or wounded including yourself. And you’re harboring known fugitives.
Mal: We’re still flying.
Simon: That’s not much.
Mal: It’s enough.

Mal: We’re not thieves. Well, we are thieves. Point is, we’re not takin’ what’s his. Now, we’ll stay out of his way as best we can from here on in. You explain that that’s best for everyone, okay?

Mal: So, she’s added cussing and hurling-about of things to her repertoire. She really is a prodigy.
Simon: It’s just a bad day.
Mal: No, a bad day is when someone’s yellin’ spooks the cattle. Understand? You ever see cattle stampede when they got no place to run? It’s kind of like a meat grinder. And it’ll lose us half the herd.

Simon: So, finally a decent wound on this ship, and I miss out. I’m sorry.
Mal: Well, you were busy trying to get yourself lit on fire. It happens.