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Young River: We got outflanked by the independent squad, and we’re never gonna make it back to our platoon. We need to resort to cannibalism.
Young Simon: That was fast. Don’t we have rations or anything?
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Inara: What did I say to you about barging into my shuttle?
Mal: That it was manly and impulsive?
Inara: Yes, precisely. Only the exact phrase I used was ‘don’t’.
Wash: Can we maybe vote on the whole “murdering people” issue?
Mal: Well, what about you, Shepherd? How come you’re flying about with us brigands? I mean, shouldn’t you be off bringing religiosity to the Fuzzie-Wuzzies or some such?
Book: Oh, I got heathens aplenty right here.
Mal: If I’m your mission, Shepherd, best give it up. You’re welcome on my boat. God ain’t.
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.
River: We’re lost. Lost in the woods.