Zöe knocked once on his hatch and pushed it open.

“You decent, sir?”

“Mostly,” came the muffled response. “Jin lai.”

She stepped down a few rungs and then dropped lightly to the floor.

Mal stood at his sink, shaving. He was dressed from the waist down, with his suspenders hanging loosely around his hips.

“Zao hao.”

His eyes met hers in the mirror and asked the question in the way they had.

She tossed the leather pouch full of coin onto his desk in answer, and dropped down on his bunk.

“Didn’t have a speck of trouble. You were right ‘bout the fair bein’ a good cover. They got another job. Told ‘em we’d talk and let ‘em know before we left.”

He nodded, concentrating on his task.

“Quiet job’d be nice. Jayne?”

“Behaved. Watched over River.” She glanced around his bunk, wondering if anything ever changed. Mal’s bunk was the only place they could really be themselves, and when she was down here with him it was just like old times. There were no prying eyes here, trying to figure out their relationship, trying to decipher their short code.

Wash had called it twin-speak, telling her about twins who had their own language. ‘Are you sure you and Mal aren’t twins separated at birth?’ he’d ask, almost seriously. Wash had found their codependency, as he called it, disturbing. He’d make the comment that people never got him and Zöe, and her eyes would meet Mal’s. Ai ya! What would they think about them?

“Simon and Kaylee?”

She made a noncommittal sound down in her throat that had him frowning at his reflection.

“Huh.”

“Need to spend some time in town today; wash some clothes, go by the tannery – stitchin’ on my gunbelt’s worked loose down the outside - and I need a new shower cap. Jayne stole mine.”

His eyes asked the question.

“Didn’t even want to know.”

“Got a few things to do my own self, then we’ll meet up and see them boys about that job.”

He finished shaving and reached for his towel. His hand fell on a ba