Wash: I don’t want you to spare me, Mal. If you think you know what’s happening, then you tell me. You wouldn’t spare Zoë if she were in this situation with you, would you? You would be planning, and plotting and… possibly scheming. So whatever Zoë would do in this instance is what I wanna do. Do you know why? No matter how ugly it gets, you two always come back with the stories. So… I’m Zoë. Now, what do I do?
Mal: Probably not talk quite so much.
Wash: Terse? I can be terse. Once in flight school, I was laconic.

War Stories

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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?

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?

Mal: Well, look at this! Appears we got here just in the nick of time. What does that make us?
Zoe: Big damn heroes, sir.
Mal: Ain’t we just?