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—
Simon: All right! Fine, I’ll go. Just… stop describing me.

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Jayne: All of you! You think there’s someone just gonna drop money on ya?! Money they could use?! Well, there ain’t people like that. There’s just people like me.

Mal: Patients were cynical, and not responding, and we couldn’t bring ’em back.
Simon: They were cyanotic…

Tracey: When you can’t run, you crawl. And when you can’t crawl, when you can’t do that…
Zoe: … you find someone to carry you.

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.