Mal looked at the water and pursed his lips. No way of knowing if it was too hot, not without testing it. He knew it was gonna look odd, but … he rolled his left sleeve up even higher and, with just a moment’s pause, put his elbow into the bath.

It felt okay, but … wasn't there some other way of doing this? More scientific? Not that he was going to ask Simon. Not and keep his dignity. Maybe he could borrow some kind of thermometer from Kaylee. But without knowing what the temperature should be, it was still a dead end.

He swore under his breath. He really should have done some checking on the Cortex before starting this. Must be something there about the correct temperature for a baby’s bath.

“No good you lying there waving at me,” he said, looking down at Ethan on the table, his little fist grabbing at empty air. “You ain't exactly helpin’.”

Ethan smiled at the familiar voice. Leastways Mal thought it was that. ‘Course, it could have been wind.

“You know, I get this wrong, and your Momma’s gonna have my hide. She’ll probably display it somewhere prominent, with a plaque underneath saying something like Thus ends all fathers who don’t take notice when they’re given instructions . Or some such.” He sighed. “Don’t suppose you can remember how hot this is supposed to be?”

Ethan just lay there, bringing his pudgy knees up to his little naked chest.

“Nope, figured as much.” Mal tried with the elbow again. “Still seems okay to me. But then, what the hell do I know? I'm havin’ a conversation with a baby.” He looked down. “Ethan, I’m relying on you to let me know if this feels right. If you come out looking like a tomato, your Momma’ll never let me bathe you again.”

For a moment his eyes glazed as he contemplated that very thing, then he shook his head. “Nope, ain’t gonna happen. I'm Captain here, and I can do this bathing thing on my own, with no supervision.” He went to take hold of his son but paused. “Only if I get it wrong, don’t squeal on me, will you?”