Jayne liked guns. He liked guns, he liked women, he liked getting drunk and he liked food that tasted like actual food. Every once in a while he really liked punching someone out, feeling the crack of knuckles hitting teeth and the raw animalistic power of seeing someone on the ground where he’d put ‘em. He liked lifting barbells, feeling his muscles push half his weight upward against gravity. But that still paled against the rush of using that strength to lay someone out.

It was a while since he’d seen action, and he was getting restless. No one wanted to play hoop-ball. One of his heaviest weights had fallen off the bar and cracked on the deck plates three days ago. Cap’n had forbidden him Cortex access after River had walked in on him browsing on the pilot’s consol and learned a few things about the human body her older brother probably didn’t know.

Jayne always seemed to be the one who trampled all over the carefully strung tension between the recovering crew. He was the one that always received the lash of pent-up grief and anger when something went wrong. They’d been drifting between planets without landing for weeks now. They’d have to touch down for fuel before long, and as soon as they did he was going to be the first out that back hatch…

But for now he prowled the mess late at night, cleaning his guns or using his favorite knife to carve naked ladies in the bits of bone he picked up here and there on border planets. He was building a set. The first was Helen, the whore from Nandi’s brothel, from the front. She was reclining.

There was also Helen from the back, standing. And Helen from the side, kneeling. By the time he got to Helen in three-quarters view looking over her shoulder, he was getting better at the fine details like facial expression and nipples.

Finally he made a full revolution, and was thinking of how Helen would look from the front, standing. He tried to think about Helen’s orgasm-face and he kept coming up with River’s expression when she caught him looking at ladies on t