Inara was annoyed. Not that she showed it, the emotions wiped from her expression to leave vacant pleasantries in their place. She’d thought they were really moving forward, really getting places. Now all she wanted to do was run away again.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” she said coldly, not looking at him. Why was it that the only man who could really make her feel something only ever made her feel irritation?

“Inara,” he acknowledged, not moving his eyes from the spread of pistols on the dining table. “Up early this morning, aren’t you?”

Stupid idiot! “Yes, well, I had to get up and cancel all my appointments since you decided on impulse to change course,” she snapped, accidentally breaking through the pleasantries. Her clients preferred her to give them a certain amount of notice if her plans had to deviate, but Malcolm Reynaulds apparently didn’t like to give that notice to her at any appropriate hour. When she was fast asleep to be precise.

He was looking at her now. Icy blue eyes drilled into hers. “Hey, I’m sorry if the rich and hygienic like to stick to a carved in steel schedule, but we don’t. You knew that when you signed on, if it doesn’t suit, well…”

“Leave? Oh, well now I have no idea why I stayed again in the first place!” she shouted, all emotions out there for the word to see. Panic coursed through her like wildfire. She was losing control. She didn’t lose control.

She walked out the door, all her residual self control going into stopping her breaking into a run. Her shuttle, which had at first seemed like a steel walled prison keeping her from him, now was a sanctuary, its curtained, softened walls barring everyone else out. She collapsed on her bed and burst into tears.

“He means to be nice. He just can’t get the words out. All jumbled up.”

Inara jumped up as if stung. Curled catlike in the corner, River was wrapped in blankets and jackets, so much so that she seemed to blend into the material swathed background.

“River, what are you…”

“Got a cold. All blocked up and wrapped up and cold.