Is it nearly April 22nd yet?

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CHECK MATE: Discovered.

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“Oh, well done, hubby! You've just royally screwed us!”

“Huh? How?”

“You sent Malcolm Reynolds your condolences! You stupid hou zi de pigu!”

“What's wrong with that?”

“You said nice things about Inara, you piece of crap! Mal had no idea you'd even heard of her, let alone knew her personally! It isn't going to take him long now to connect us – you – to her death.”

“I didn't want her dead ... You didn't have to go that far, Bridget. You only had to find out about the syringe ... You've broken his heart, you know that, don't you?”

“Pah! Malcolm Reynolds doesn't have a heart!”

“Well, that's where you're wrong ... Jus' 'cos he di'n't fall for your charms ...”

“You know something? He had me wonderin' if he might be sly. But I guess you'd know for sure. What with you two bein' such close buddies.”

“I ain't sly! Looks like the ol' sayin's true - Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“Monty, sweetheart, sometimes I think you have absolutely no smarts at all. For me, this was never about Mal. It's always been about the Malleus. Breaking up that self-satisfied crew was jus' a bonus!”

“Hey! Where ya goin'?”

“I'm leaving you.”

“But you promised to love, honour and obey, Bridget. Gorramit, you married me!”

“You an' a dozen others.'Bye, peaches. Don't try to find me.”

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If only there were a mirror in his bunk Simon would know just how ridiculous he looks. As it is, he can only imagine. Everything pinches and nips. These pants – the best he has – cling in ways he fears may well be obscene. Trying to walk normally in them is impossible. And this shirt – his shiny silk shirt – is so tight he can clearly see the outline of his nipples.

He blames the woeful lack of laundry facilities on Serenity and wonders briefly whether these garments should ever have been placed in soapy water. Having to wash his own clothes is one of the many humiliations life as a fugitive has brought him.