“You know, I ain’t too sure about this.” Mal eyed the cut-throat razor with some unease.

“You use it all the time,” Freya said, using the horsehair brush to stir up foam on the soap.

“Yeah. But it ain’t gonna be me doing the shaving.”

She smiled at him. “Don’t you trust me?”

“’Course I do!” he protested. “It’s just …”

“Then sit down.” Freya had moved the only chair in the room into the centre of the floor, and now she pointed at it with the brush. “I promise not to hurt you.”

Mal still had misgivings. “You done this a lot?” he asked, still standing next to their bunk, wearing only a pair of pants, not even buttoned all the way up.

“Once or twice,” Freya agreed.

“Who? I think I should wave them, see if they’re still around.” He nodded towards the razor. “Make sure they ain’t lying somewhere with their throats cut.”

“Be messy if they were,” Freya said, turning to look at him. “Sit.”

“So who was it?” Mal persisted.

Freya smiled and sighed at the same time. “Well, there was the captain of the Lancaster I crewed on before the war. He got hurt one time and couldn’t do it himself, and he didn’t trust the rest of the men.”

“Thought they might decide they could run things better?”

“No,” Freya said. “But some of them had the shakes so bad he didn’t want to end up having his nose removed.”

Mal couldn’t help the mental image. “But he let you?”

“Said it was the best shave he’d ever had.” She glanced at the chair. “So, you gonna sit or do I get Jayne to tie you down?”

“That’s not fair,” he complained, reluctantly taking a seat. She stepped closer to him, the thin robe she was wearing falling open slightly. “Best do that up,” he added. “Else we ain't gonna do any shaving today at all.”

Freya laughed and tightened the knot. “Now,” she said. “Don’t move.”

*

Kaylee looked at herself in the mirror she had just bought, adjusting it so she could see the top half of herself. She’d really have liked the full-length one the salesman had been keen on, but there j