Chapter D. What Comes of Talking to Girl-Folk

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*Characters and their world belong to Mr. Whedon and Co. Mistakes and follies are mine.

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“Captain Reynolds,” Inara said, all gracious warmth, “to what do I owe the surprise?” He was taken aback by her calmly formal greeting; her smile, and it looked to him genuine, was still not enough to melt off the civilized polish, the forms and life not his.

“Fella ain’t to wave a how-do at an ex-passenger of his? That break some one or other of your Companion-y rules?”

“I’d hardly call you breaking rules, those known and unknown, surprising behavior.” Inara kept her smile warm, but her eyes drifted over to the side. Mal fidgeted a moment, not sure of Inara or her gentle smile. Never know where you stand with her, he thought, always waiting... I could ask Zoe to walk into hell with me, Wash would fly us to the gates, and Kaylee would get them open, tyen-uh, even Jayne would watch my back long as he saw a percentage, but Inara... she’d be as like to turn and walk away laughing, as parley with the Devil. Do both just as easy, too. You can’t keep a ship the air, always wondering when people are going to cut and run. And you don’t think about what you can’t have or can’t change... Yet Mal had still turned on his screen, sent out the wave, and there she was smiling like a statue cut by the best hand out of the hardest stone in the whole of the spinning ‘verse.

Inara lifted her chin, a bit, as if wondering why she had to keep the conversation rolling. “How fares your crew?”

“Oh you know us. Yi fan feng shun.”

“And yet you don’t look particularly content.”

“‘Only fools smirk in the face of fortune,’ my mama always said. Like to get you turned about real fast.”

“That would explain several things, as I recall.” Inara’s bemusement was plain—mhe was quoting his mother? Things had to be very calm or very strained to get him reminiscing about anything... Mal could see the puzzlement now clouding out her smile.

“Yeah... maybe. We uh, well