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.

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Mal: There ain’t-a one of us looks the part more than the good doctor. I mean, the pretty fits, soft hands, definitely a moneyed individual. All rich and lily-white, pasty all over—
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Mal: This is why we lost, you know. Superior numbers.
Zoe: Thanks for the re-enactment, sir.