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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Kaylee: So how many fell madly in love with you and wanted to take you away from all this?
Inara: Just the one. I think I’m slipping.

Lund: You didn’t toast? Y’know, I’m thinkin’ you one of them independents.
Mal: And I’m thinkin’ you weren’t burdened with an overabundance of schooling. So why don’t we just ignore each other, til we go away?

Mal: Reavers ain’t men – or they forgot how to be.

Jayne: About time you broke in them fancy shoes. Hyah! Get along!
Mal: You know, they walk just as easy if you lead ’em.
Jayne: I like smackin’ ’em.

Safe

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.