“Jayne. Jayne. Jayne!”

The man in question jerked his head up and banged it against the pipe. “Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la doo-tze!” Pressing one hand to the back of his skull, he edged out from under the contraption and straightened up, eyeing Mal dangerously. “You got somethin’ against my head?”

“No.” Mal took a seat on the edge of a nearby crate. “May I ask what you’re doin’ with my engine?”

“Kaylee said somethin’ or other about retrofittin’ the grav drive. I was tryin’ - key word there bein’ tryin’, afore I was so rudely interrupted - to see if I could figure out what in hell she was goin’ on about.” Jayne removed his hand from the back of his head and looked at his fingers. “You’re damn lucky you didn’t cause no bleedin’.”

“You’re the one who hit your head.” Mal looked at Jayne and decided to go for it. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Aw hell, you’re still cut up about that?” Jayne gave a barely noticeable eye roll and leaned against a part of the engine that Mal had no hope of being able to identify. “You was the one who wanted to wear the dress.”

“Wearin’ the dress and gettin’ insulted wasn’t a package deal!”

“Well,” Jayne said slowly, “you got to admit you don’t make much of a woman.”

Mal refused to admit anything. “If I recollect rightly, ‘powerful ugly’ was the phrase you used.”

“And if I recollect rightly, you went off’n got yourself a wife shortly thereafter. So pardon me if I can’t see any reason for you to be all wounded and such.” Jayne wiped his oily hands with an even oilier rag. “Unless o’ course you got secrets.”

“Secrets?”

“We been up here a long while, and I can’t recall when’s the last time I seen you in a brothel. You don’t got needs?”

“Needs?” Mal knew he was being the ‘Verse’s greatest echo and worst conversationalist, but he frankly couldn’t help it. Thinking around Jayne had always been difficult. Partly because Jayne himself didn’t make a habit of thinking much.

“Yeah, needs.” Jayne’s eyes bored into his, then slid down his body in a way that made Ma