He's a good boy, Mal is. Can't say that matters though, in the long run. It's eat or get eaten, out here. Mal didn't never understand that. He got his head all back in the war. Wouldn't last a day on a moon like mine. Some little girl would scream when her man slapped her, and Mal'd ride in and save her and get shot for his troubles. He's a good man. Ain't room for good men no more.

Still, I ain't happy 'bout what I done. Don't change the fact that I'm gonna do it again. I fancy had my boy lived, I'd have been glad of him growin' up to be a man like Mal. But he ain't alive either. All I got's a rock and a coupla hundred mouths crying for food I can't afford to buy.

Well that ain't so much true. I could afford it. Right now, anyway. A month, a year, three years – spend the money ya ain't gotta now and you might starve then. Don't pay for nothin' I don't have to. Rule's served me well.

Malcom Reynolds ain't made for nothing, save the black and that rust bucket he flies. He's just one man. We'll bury him nice. Fittin' a war hero. Have Two-Fry sing him a ballad.

But I ain't payin' for somethin' I can get for free. Ain't happy to do it though. Ain't happy at all. Except when my number's up, I'll be goin' somewhere Mal ain't headed for, iffin' them preachers is right about heaven an' hell.