Inara finally got out of bed and seated herself in front of her dresser, absently brushing her hair. Somebody softly cleared their throat, and she spun around, ready to throw the hairbrush squarely at Malcolm Reynold's smirking face. Or maybe a bit further southward.

Instead, she came face to face with Shepherd Book. "Shepherd Book? I...what...?"

He gave her that knowing smile. "Hello, Inara. I sincerely hope that hairbrush was meant to be aimed at somebody other than me."

She suddenly realized she still had the hairbrush in a deathgrip. "Actually, yes. At a certain petty thief of a captain who thinks he can barge into the shuttle of the ship's whore anytime he feels like it. I...wasn't expecting you."

Book extended a hand. "May I? I think this conversation might go a bit better if neither of us was armed."

She handed him the hairbrush, which he gently set down on the dresser table. "Inara, have you noticed that he doesn't just barge in any more. And that lately, he doesn't call you a whore."

Inara blinked at him. "I suppose I hadn't. You're right. He hasn't done either of those since..."

"Since when?" Book prompted.

She lowered her eyes. "Since Miranda."

Book sat down next to her. "Why do you think that might be?"

Inara sighed. "I don't know, Shepherd. Really. Just when I think I've figured him out..."

"He surprises you. He doesn't play the part of the thief. He tells you how he feels about you."

Inara laughed sharply. "I don't think that man has the least bit of an idea what he wants out of me, much less how he feels about me."

Book gently shook his head. "You think so? He tried to tell you, after Nandi died. Tried to tell you he was sorry for hurting you. And how did you repay that kindness?"

Inara stood suddenly, her voice getting defensive. "It wasn't that simple. Things were complicated. I couldn't stay."

"And yet here you are, back on Serenity again. Why is that?"

"Did you come here just to bombard me with Zen riddles, Shepherd? I was under the impres