“In case anybody feels the urge to know, we’ve taken off,” Hank said, dropping down into the kitchen area.

Mal looked over from where he was just finishing drying his plate. “Only me around,” he said. “We on course?”

“Next stop Beaumonde,” the pilot confirmed. “In about ten hours.”

“Good.” Mal put his dish away and closed the cupboard. “Well, grab yourself some breakfast then get back to the bridge.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Hank grinned as he realised he sounded like a pirate, and snapped off a smart salute to go with it.

“Just fly the damn boat,” Mal said, coming out from behind the counter.

“No problem.” The grin faded. “So Jayne really decided he didn’t want to fly with us no more?”

“His choice.” Mal stepped into the corridor.

“Guess it’s gonna take us a while to get used to the big ape not being around.”

“I guess.”

Hank heard the hatch above Mal’s bunk open then close again, and he sighed. Seemed like nobody felt like being sociable today. He stirred the hot oat cereal in the pan. Mind, if Mal had made breakfast, he wasn't surprised everyone was avoiding it.

“Oh, sorry,” Jethro said from the doorway. “I thought everyone had finished.”

“Not sure anyone’s actually been here,” Hank corrected, dropping a glutinous spoonful into a bowl.

“Um, is that breakfast?” Jethro asked, coming closer to peer at it.

“Either that or Kaylee’s invented a new form of engine sealant.” Hank poked it carefully, but it appeared to be dead. “Our captain is not the best cook in the world,” he said in a whisper. “Mind you, neither am I. I once managed to burn salad.”

Jethro, deciding abstinence was probably better on this occasion, paused in the action of pouring himself a cup of coffee. “How can you burn salad? That’s impossible.”

“Not for me,” Hank admitted happily. “See, it said it was warmed, only I didn’t realise that meant the dressing, so I –“

“Burned the salad.” Jethro nodded in understanding. “Maybe I should volunteer to cook.”

“You know how?”

“I used to w