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Write a ficlet on the theme of Betrayal [31 Aug 2005|01:23pm]
“Aiyā huàile! wŏmen wánle!“ I grunted, slamming the heel of my hand against the helm. And I was in half a mind to follow up with my boot. We’d come so gorram close to gettin’ away scot free too.

“You got that right.” Drawled Hessian Stitch, my partner in crime, as he came to sit in the cockpit next to me. “Think you can ditch ‘em?”

“I’m tryin’ aren’t I?” I growled, pullin’ on the throttle and tryin’ to shake the bogies off of our tail. “Thought you said no one’d cottoned onto us. Said we was free and clear to take off.” I spat on the floor and glanced all suspicious-like at the man I’d spent the last six months runnin’ with.

Fast runnin' outta options, here...Collapse )
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The First Time I Saw... [29 Jul 2005|12:33am]
First time I saw her she was curled up asleep in a box

A gorram girl in a box.

'Course the next thing that crossed my mind was, āiyā huàile, she's naked. Not a gorram stitch on her. And I think I leaned in a little closer at the point.

Well, hell, who wouldn't?

Had my arms locked around the fancy doctor at the time, keepin' him restrained for Mal. I tightened my hold a bit when the doc tried to break my grip and lunge forward. Then the doc and Mal had some words, and I could tell the cap'n was fixin' for more than just words. Had that look in his eye, when he thinks an injustice is bein' done, all fierce and cold. Even I can't stare that down for long. And I've tried.

Didn't have much time to dwell on that though because that was when she sat up and started screamin' her head off. Started actin' all fēng kuáng de, hollerin' and jerkin' back and forth. Lookin' around but not really seein' us. I guess she was frightened outta her skull, and she had cause to be. Wakin' up in a strange place with a bunch of strangers starin' at her like that. And her bein' naked and all.

Mal was lookin' like he'd just been shot square between the eyes, and Inara was takin' off her robe to cover her I 'spose, but we all just stood there, still kinda surprised by the fact that there'd been a naked girl stashed in the fancy doctor's box.

The girl just sorta flopped outta the box onto the floor, legs and arms all spreadeagled like she couldn't get them to work properly, and gaspin' like a fish that'd been tossed up onto the shore.
Bits of her dark hair stuck to her face and her skin had a wet sheen to it too, now that I think about it. Guess that was from that mist or whatever it was that'd kept her alive inside the box.

The doc ran to her, seein' as how I'd forgotten about him and loosened my grip. Managed to calm her down, soothed her with his whispers and by holdin' her in his arms and strokin' her hair and such.

Turned out she was his sister. And they was runnin' from the feds on account of them messin' with her head and tryin' to fry her brain.

So that was when we found out that we had ourselves a crazy-assed fugitive girl on board, who'd been experimented on, and who was bein' hunted down by damn near everyone. I was real thrilled about that.

River Tam.


'Course back then I didn't know just how much trouble she'd be. All I could think about was the sight of her curled up in that box. Naked. Quiet. Pretty.

Hell, she was pretty even when she was screamin' and cryin'.

I still think about it sometimes. Book'd probably tell me I was headed straight to some special hell or somethin' for havin' such thoughts, if he knew.

And maybe he'd be right.
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What do you look for in a romantic partner? [20 Jul 2005|01:01am]
Romantic partner? That some fancy way of sayin’ regular bunkmate? I ain’t got time for romance, flowers and candlelit suppers and holdin’ hands and all that carry on. Sex on the other hand…always got time for that. With us bein’ on the run most the time, tryin’ to live under the Alliance radar, settlin’ down is the last thing on my list of stuff ‘to do’ right now.

Well, okay, there was that time when I nearly gave up Vera to get myself a wife. But that was more because I felt it was unfair the Captain got given a wife when all I got was a gorram rain-stick. And you gotta admit, Saffron was one tantalizing prize, all soft smiles, and shy looks, and those curves of her…enough to make any man lose their reason for a while. Luckily it weren’t me that got that goodnight kiss of hers. I had a good chuckle about that. Turned out to be a real cold snake under all that warm flesh. Pity, I actually entertained marryin’ her for a few hours.

If I did have the coin, and the time and the gumption to finally take me a wife, well I guess she’d have to be a looker. I ain’t marryin’ someone I don’t care to look at or see naked, after all. She’d have to be willin’ to please me, and respect me. And I reckon if she knew how to protect herself and use guns that’d be a real turn on. And, of course, she’d need to be real frisky in the sack, and a good breeder. ‘Cause I’d be wantin’ plenty of sons and daughters. I reckon a couple of each would be good to start out with. I was the fifth son in my family and my mama handled us all just fine. ‘Course any woman I wed would have to measure up to her, and that wouldn’t be easy. So in the end, I guess I’d choose someone gentle and carin’ on the outside, but strong underneath.

And stupid enough to want to marry a húndàn like me.
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Workin' Up a Sweat [24 Jun 2005|08:47pm]
Continued from here


I finished my second set of ab-crunches and moved on to some hangin' leg raises. Nothin' like workin' up a good hard sweat to help me keep my mind off of where it don't belong. That's what I kept tellin' myself anyway.

Too bad the preacher wasn't on board to help with the spottin' later. Odd kinda shepherd though, even if he did make a good trainin' partner, and pretty decent company. Knew things that no self-respectin' man of the cloth oughta know. Mal once said that Book was a 'conundrum' that one day would reveal himself to us if we all waited patiently enough. I reckoned that just was a fancy way of sayin' to keep our noses outta the lăotou's business or there'd be hell to pay. Didn't stop me bein' curious though. If he didn't have nothin' to hide, what was the big deal?

All I knew was that there was more than meets the eye to Shepherd Book, and I didn't like the not knowin'. Still, I could be patient when I needed to. And every day we spent spottin' weights or in the galley makin' supper, I made sure I dug a little deeper into that mystery. Knowledge was power, right? 'Course a meaty fist in your face could be too. Which was what I'd been workin' on, keepin' myself in peak condition for when brawn was needed over the brain.

"You're stuck too. Trapped within her walls."

What the guai did she know anyway? I chose to be on Serenity. I had options. And I wasn't supposed to be thinkin' about her anyway. I finished the set and reached for my towel, wipin' my face before slingin' it over my shoulder.

I decided to move on to the bench presses. Something tougher, that demanded focus and gorram concentration. I laid back on the bench and spat on my hands and then reached up to get a good grip on the bars, takin' my time to position them right before I lifted them up off of the rests and lowered the bar in line with my chest.

Then I began the reps, keepin' it steady and countin' out loud as I worked through the set. Yep, this was what I needed. An honest workout. None of that over-thinkin' crap.

Then I saw her out of the corner of my eye. She'd been silently watchin' me as I'd gone through the motions, gruntin' and gaspin' for breath whenever I reached my limit and tried to push past it.

I nearly dropped the bar, and only just managed to catch the ruttin' thing in time before it did serious damage to my ribcage. If Book had been here, it wouldn't have happened at all. Cursin', I righted myself and put the barbell back on its rests.

"What are you tryin' to do? Kill me?" I sat up and rubbed hard at the place on my chest that was gonna be black with a bruise tomorrow. "Thought you were supposed to be stickin' close to your gē ge..."

(open to River)
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When in your life did you feel the most alone? [15 Jun 2005|10:56pm]
What kind of fèihuà is this? I know I’m supposed to be writin’ stuff down, my feelin’s and thoughts and all, but guai, some of this is getting’ way too personal for my likin’. Bad enough I’ve got to deal with some crazy-assed witch on board who can poke her thievin’ fingers into my ruttin’ mind like she’s dippin’ them into butter or somethin’.

I ‘spose you’re all expectin’ me to dig down deep now and bare my soul to you, right? Think I’m gonna get all weepy and womanish rememberin’ the times I didn’t have noone to turn to? Or when my guns were the only things I could rely on, and it was like the whole gŏu cào de ‘verse was against me and determined to see me six feet under? Think I’m gonna start tearin’ up over all the times Mal nearly keelhauled my ass, or coulda thrown me out, or shoulda thrown me out? Or feel all sorry for myself because life’s a piece of gŏushĭ most of the gorram time?

Like hell. That’s what money and whores are for. So you don’t have to feel alone.
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Like Rutting Clockwork [02 Jun 2005|09:41pm]
[ mood | thirsty ]


Best gorram day of the year for drinking, fighting and generally getting up to no good. So o’course, when Wash sets us down on Newhall, the Cap’n and me make for the nearest bar for some much deserved rest and relaxation, as Mal calls it. But I know better’n that. Every rutting U-day it’s the same old routine with him. Mal goes out carousing and spoiling to bust some alliance heads, and whoever’s with him gets dragged into it. It’s something you can count on. Like compasses always facing north and whore’s always expecting to get paid for what they do. Me? I’m along for the free beer. People get all generous and downright stupid celebrating re-unification, buying rounds for their fellow man and toasting each other. As long as I get some free alcohol, I don’t much care if the captain causes a ruckus at the end of it.

‘Sides, a good brawl never hurt anyone. Well. Alright, there’s some hurting involved, but the trick is to be the one dishing the hurt out, rather’n receiving it. Unless your one of ‘em pansy-assed freaks who get off on that sort of feng le shit. And that ain’t me.

So, I’m slumped in a booth, drinking this chou ma niao they call beer, and watching Mal play holo-pool with some alliance asshole, and he’s just fixing for the hundan to open his trap about the browncoats. Like I said, predictable. Still, reckon I might get off my butt and rack up a game myself in a minute.

Then a guy, whose gorram short enough to be called a midget or something, comes up to me and slaps me on the shoulder like I’m his bestest buddy.

“You man enough to take a whuppin’ from me on the table?”

I give him a look for a second, like maybe he’s one of them degenerates that like to stick their zhandou de yi kuai rou in other men. Then he points to the other pool table and I visibly relax. Never can be sure in a place like this.

“So whaddaya say? Care for a friendly wager?”

Truth is, there’s nothing friendly about gambling. Any time money’s involved, friendship don’t mean a gorram thing. Men have killed for less. Well, that’s how I see it, and living by that philosophy has kept me alive and a free man so far. That, and my smarts. People look at me and think I’m sa gua, and I don’t dissuade them of that notion. Let them think I’m a big dumb brute who’s in love with his guns, who don’t know nothing but killing, and who has nothing on his mind but where his next job, meal or fuck is gonna come from.

Every time a liumang underestimates my smarts, it gives me an advantage over him. And when your life is what your gambling with, it’s all about getting the first drop on your opponent.

I nod and stand up, downing the rest of my beer in one gulp, and then stroll over to the pool table to pick up a cue.

“Count me in small-fry. I’ve got some coin to burn. Though I’m thinking you’ll be the one crying into your beer before the day’s done.”

(ooc: now updated with the rest of the story)

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Some weird-ass poems and shit [01 Jun 2005|08:12pm]
LiveJournal Haiku!
Your name:_notahero_
Your haiku:somewhat right now
and that's what he has long as
it's profitable
Created by Grahame

More under here...Collapse )
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Interestin'... [28 May 2005|06:33pm]

What Is Your Best Sexual Skill?
Flirting Skill Level - 15%
Kissing Skill Level - 27%
Cuddling Skill Level - 12%
Sex Skill Level - 94%
Why They Love You You know exactly what they want.
Why They Hate You You bite.
This fun quiz by lady_wintermoon - Taken 2519262 Times.
New! Get Free Horoscopes from Kwiz.Biz

I suppose it's sorta accurate. I mean why bother with the flirtin', when you can pay for it? And I'm not the kiss'n cuddle type, but damn straight on that last part. Maybe I like it a little rough with the bitin', but no gal's had that many complaints after. 'Course they're usually totally spent and speechless from the amazin' sex they just had the pleasure of experiencin'.
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Afraid of Bein' too Gullible, or too Skeptical? [25 May 2005|10:08pm]
Well, neither of them sound right to me.

Scared of bein’ gullible? Nope, don't see it. If I found out someone’d fed me a crock of fèihuà ‘bout somethin’ important, you can bet they’d be the ones quakin’ in their boots, feelin’ the fear, not me. ‘Sides, I ain’t exactly paid to be the brains of the outfit, but that don’t mean I ain’t got the smarts neither. Most people think I’m shăguā, a big dumb brute who don’t care about much except where my next job, meal and screw is comin’ from, and that’s fine by me. Means they’re underestimatin’ what I’m capable of. And in my line o’work, that can mean the difference between comin’ out of a firefight alive or deader’n dead. So I guess I’m more a distrustin’ type, keepin’ an eye out for people tryin’ to get the drop on me. Safer that way. I don’t think you can ever be too skeptical about somethin’.

Take for instance that Saffron pōfù. Now if I’d been the captain, I sure as hell wouldn’t have been out like a light from kissin’ them pretty pert lips of hers. There’s a reason I don’t kiss ‘em on the mouth. Sure, it might’ve been fun to see what she’d had to offer in other ways, if you get my drift. Better’n a lousy rain-stick I’d bet. But still, I’d rather be skeptical and still be breathin’, and have all my coin the next day than not.
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Lecturin' about Lecherin' [14 May 2005|08:54pm]
[ mood | confused ]

(continued from here in the River/Jayne 'Knives' story)

"Jayne, I think we need to have another little talk. Seems like you didn't get the message clear in your head the first time..."

Captain Mal had that tone to his voice that let me know I was in for another lecture, a tongue lashin' about somethin' I done wrong. But hell, it weren't like I was doin' anythin' improper, just testin' River's skill with the blade. So why was both Mal and the Doc lookin' at me like I was the devil incarnate or somethin'?

Mal pulled me to one side, and it seemed like Simon was draggin' off River too. Guess we were both in for a good talkin' to. I followed Mal over to one side of the cargo bay and stopped when he did. He stared at me with a mighty perplexed expression.

"What?" I prompted, scratchin' the back of my neck, and meetin' Mal's gaze eye to eye. "What have you got your pants all bunched up about now?"

"I could ask the same of you, Jayne. I'm thinking some part of the lower end of you is controlling your brain somewhat right now. And that's not a good thing." Mal replied, cockin' his head to one side, with eyes narrowin' and arms crossed against his chest. "What in tiān xiăodé do you think you were doing? Have you forgotten that Rivers a mite volatile? And that she's not exactly 100 percent if you catch my drift?"

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, puzzlin' out what Mal was tryin' to get at, and finally placed my hands on my hips.

"Yeah, I know that. She's fēng kuáng de and all. But she knows stuff. Guai Mal, she can name every blade I got, and hit any target I tell her to aim for. Don't that strike you as more than just crazy? Maybe them people had a purpose for what they did to her. Made her into a killin' machine or some such." I shot back, tryin' to explain what I'd been doin'.

Mal shook his head, and clamped his hand on my shoulder again.

"A killing machine? River. No, I think she's a poor lost girl who needs to be handled with the utmost care. And that means she's off limits to the likes of you. Do I need to spell it out to you, Jayne? Because god help me, I will if I need to."

I bristled at that. What the hell was he implyin'? That I was goin' to take advantage of River? Sure, maybe a while ago I'd entertained the notion when she'd first come on board, but now? I knew better'n to tempt fate, and frankly it pissed me off that Mal'd even suggest such a thing.

"Dĕng yìmiăo! I ain't got no designs on River. I swear. What kind o'man do you take me for, Mal? She's barely eighteen!" I protested, shruggin' off his hand, and takin' an indignant step backwards. Mal looked relieved for a few seconds but then his eyes latched onto somethin' and I followed his gaze. It was River, comin' up to us and layin' a familiar hand on my shoulder. She leaned into me and whispered somethin' so softly I had to strain to hear.

"We can play this game again Jayne. The blade will be freed another day." Then she turned and headed back to Simon, who was givin' me the evil eye or somethin'.

For some reason, River's words made me to glance over to Mal, who was lookin' like he'd just had confirmation of his worst fears.

"Mal-" I began, wantin' to set the record straight, but he interrupted.

"Jayne, if you so much as touch a single hair on that girl's head in an inappropriate way, I'll make sure that you're keelhauled to next Tuesday. Dong ma?!" Mal barked at me, eyes all ablaze with anger and disapproval.

What was he? My gorram mother? Still, I sighed and nodded, holdin' my hands up in mock surrender.

"I get it. She's off limits. Whatever you say, Captain, you're the boss."

Mal nodded, and seemed satisfied with my answer. Finally he left and went back up to the galley. I stood there starin' at his back as he walked away. River and me? That was yúbèn de. Complete ruttin' bull. As if I'd go after someone like her! What the guai did they take me for?

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Watch out ladies... [09 May 2005|09:53pm]
[ mood | naughty ]

I am the Rake

A woman never quite feels desired and appreciated enough. She wants attention, but a man is too often distracted and unresponsive. The Rake is a great female fantasy-figure - when he desires a woman, brief though that moment may be, he will go to the ends of the earth for her. He may be disloyal, dishonest and amoral, but that only adds to his appeal. Stir a woman's repressed longings by adapting the Rake's mix of danger and pleasure.

Symbol: Fire. The Rake burns with a desire that enflames the woman he is seducing. It is extreme, uncontrollable and dangerous. The Rake may end in hell, but the flames surrounding him often make him seem that much more desirable to women.

What Type of Seducer are You?
created by polite_society

Well, how about them apples. I may be goin' ta hell, but I'll make it a pleasant ride. You like it dangerous? Then I'm yer poison.
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Trust Ain't My Style [02 May 2005|05:06pm]
I ain't got much use for trust, bein' a mercenary. Don't trust noone but myself, and I like that just fine. That way no one can let you down, or stab you in the kidney when yer back is turned. Trustin' someone is a sure fire way to end up bein' left for dead on some stinkhole of a planet.
My partner Stitch found that out the hard way. Kinda feel bad about what I done, but it was a decision I made when things were desperate. Lookin' back now, I still would've thrown him outta the shuttle before the $60,000 platinum loot. Guess that makes me a bad man, no gorram hero that's for sure.

I don't expect anyone to trust me. They'd be a ruttin' fool if they did. What I do, I do to survive. Better deal comes along and I'm goin' for it. Captain Mal knows that, he respects that. He bought my loyalty and that's what he has, long as it's profitable for me and all.

That said...sometimes I wish things were diff'rent. Serenity's the longest I've stayed anywhere. There's people on it I'd like to trust more.

But it's safer to just rely on myself. Otherwise I'm just openin' up myself to a world of disappointment.
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What would you say was your most treasured possession? [27 Apr 2005|12:23pm]
I reckon most people who know me probably figure I’d pick one of my guns or knives as my most treasured possession. I’ve got myself some mighty fine ones too. Some of them’s got sentimental value to me, and have saved my life more times than I could count. Some of them are just a work of art to behold. Hell, I’ve even named some of them. Like Vera for instance. Beautiful, deadly, feels good in my hand…

And for the record there ain’t nothin’ wrong with namin’ a gun after a woman. I don’t give a hóuzi de pìgu what people think about that. ‘Sides ships get named after woman all the time. Mal calls Serenity a she, so it ain’t like I’m the only one or nothin’.

But the truth is, the one thing I have that means the most to me is somethin’ that ain’t got to do with killin’ at all. It’s the cap my ma knitted for me and sent me in the post. Keeps my head warm when it’s cold. It’s bright and cheery, and most importantly it comes from home. It was made just for me, and with love, and that’s what counts. I wear that hat, and even if I look like xióngmāo niào I know that I’m loved, that I got family.

I was willin’ to give away Vera for a wife. Ain’t noone getting’ my gorram hat.
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Some Enchanted Evenin' [25 Apr 2005|05:33pm]
Didn't understand why it had to be me and all. Standin' here all gussified up. Dressed in a vest too tight around the chest and pants that made me fear for my unborn offsprin'. Why couldn't Mal have picked the Doctor with his fancy ways to pull this off? Why me? I shook my head and growled with annoyance, which damn near made the butler standin' next to me soil his shorts judging by his terrified expression.

"What? You never seen a real man before?" I blustered, and pushed past him into the hallway where other guests where struttin' their stuff.

A simple plan...Collapse )
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Theatrical Muse Samples [13 Apr 2005|01:13pm]
What is the scariest thing that has ever happened to you?Collapse )
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(Out Of Character General Feedback Post) [29 Jan 2005|09:54am]
[ mood | creative ]

Heya, I just stuck this up in case anyone is in a mood to comment, beta or just generally give feedback on any of my Jayne stuff here.

Interactive Fan fiction, or Roleplaying (RPing) is a little more impromptu/by the seat of the pants style of writing than regular fanficcing, but has its own rewards and challenges.

I really want to do the best Jayne I can do, so any helpful tips, ideas on what is working or not working etc would be much appreciated.


Anne <333

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Jayne/River Scene : A Space with Your Name On It [28 Jan 2005|10:00pm]
[ mood | grumpy ]

(scene written in collaboration with River:aint_quiteright at objectsinspace >

Beaumonde was a place you could spend a fair amount of coin if you'd a mind to. I'd decided to splash out on getting my guns cleaned professionally. I did a fairly good job myself but there weren't nothing like getting the deluxe treatment from time to time. Still, I was glad to get back to the ship. Came back a touch unsettled about that girl in the gunshop. Something about her'd tugged at me, like I'd seen her before or should know her. Didn't like that feeling.

Soon as I got back inside and stowed my newly cleaned guns away though, I shrugged it off. No sense in trying to strain my brain about some pretty slip of a gal I'd probably never see again.

I sat on my bunk for a few minutes, checking through the other purchases I'd made. Then I got up and decided I might as well clean and sharpen my knives too.

Headed out to the engine room to grab me some grease and look for one of Kaylee's special rags she kept tucked away in one of her toolboxes. Real nice quality chamois rags, perfect for polishing up a blade. I'd pay her back later o'course.

I strolled all casual-like into the engine room, keeping an eye out for Kaylee but she wasn't nowhere's to be seen. Which was good. Then I began to open up and search the toolboxes, trying to put things back tidily so she wouldn't cotton on too quick that'd I'd been messing with her gear.

I finally found what I was looking for, and was stuffing one of the rags into my pocket when I looked up and nearly jumped out of my hide. River was sitting not more than three feet away from me, her back against the wall, staring at me with that feng le look in her eyes she sometimes got.

"Qing wa cao de liumang!" I cursed, taking a step back. "Didn't see you there. What are ya doing, anyway? Better not be touching anything you ain't oughta be touching." I growled at River, remembering how she'd just pick up things and take them sometimes. What if she took out some important part of the engine and we didn't know till we tried to make orbit or some such.

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Chafin' at the Bit [02 Jan 2005|01:16pm]
When we were about to set down on Hespera for our next mission, I got some orders from the captain that had me marchin’ up to the cockpit to give him a piece of my mind. Zoe and Wash were in there too, which gave me a second’s pause, but then I went right ahead with my rant anyways.

"Why the guai am I the one who gets stuck with babysittin' duty again? Mal, it ain't fair. You're payin' me to be useful, so here's a strange concept for ya: Use me." I was fed up with the way things were playin’ out lately. I needed some action, somethin’ to do to get my mind off of other things.

Mal folded his arms and swiveled around all casual-like in the pilot’s chair to look up at me.

"What we're plannin' on doing today is a delicate finesse job, Jayne." He replied, as if that were all the explanation he needed.

"So?" I shot back, not seein’ the point he was tryin’ to make.

"Do I have to explain the word finesse to you?. It means 'requiring of a light touch'. Which, I'm sure you can understand, is something you are lacking in abundance." Zoe chuckled at that, and I shot a surly glance her way. Mal gestured for Wash to take the helm and start the landin’ process. He stood up and made for the doorway.

"Hey, I can have a light touch when I need to. I'm all with the different kinds of touchin'." I called after him, still frustrated by his decision. Mal quirked an eyebrow at me and his mouth twitched like it was wantin’ to smile, as though he’d heard me say somethin’ funny.

"And that's supposed to reassure me, Jayne?" He replied, tiltin’ his head to the side and regardin’ me with amusement.

"I think he was meaning he's a bit touched, Mal." Offered Wash, and I turned to glare at him.

"Don't make puns dear, it's not fair on Jayne." Zoe reached over and patted Wash’s shoulder, who shrugged and grinned at everyone.

"I'll touch you in a second if you don't keep your gorram trap shut." I growled, pointing my finger in Wash’s face and takin’ a few steps towards him.

"Nĭmen dōu bìzuĭ!” Mal shouted, and we all shut up and turned to face him. “The decision stands. Wash, Kaylee and Zoe are with me. We'll change into our finest threads and leave in an hour. Jayne, you stick with the ship, keep an eye on the doctor and River. Make sure they don't go wandering off and meeting the natives. Inara is conducting her business as usual and will be checking in sometime tomorrow. We've still got two days up our sleeves till we need to pick up the good shepherd from Denton, but I don't plan on anything fouling up this mission and delaying us any more than is necessary. Dŏng ma?"

Mal was givin’ out orders, but I could tell he was directin’ it all at me. Zoe and Wash nodded, and I gritted my teeth and did the same. Wasn't much point in causin' more of a ruckus.

One of these days though…

In the meantime I was stuck with guardin’ the ship and the Tam’s. It weren’t somethin’ high on my list of fun activities to do. But Mal was the captain, and for now, I had to follow his orders.

Didn’t mean things couldn’t change. Mal’d better keep that in mind the next time he lumped me with all the borin’ chores.
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