No air had ever tasted sweeter after the pungent stench of Wardy's den. Jayne coughed a few times and spat, trying to remove the taste of the acrid and stale reek from his mouth and nose. Mal took it all in stride, but secretly wished he could scrub the place from his clothes and body before speaking to civilized people again. Hell, before speaking to uncivilized people again.

Despite the man's affection for anything that could be smoked and his deep-rooted hatred for open windows, Wardy had the best prices on all manner of merchandise - and the best connections in the quadrant. Mal could always count on a tip for a job, should he pay a visit to the smoke-filled hole in the wall. And because Mal never mentioned the stench - unlike some other smugglers Wardy had dealt with - the old coot felt an odd affection for the Browncoat and gave him the best tips and haggled less enthusiastically over prices on supplies.

This time had been no different. Wardy had even noticed Mal's right arm never left the pocket of his duster (Mal had opted to not use the sling, so as not to appear a walking target) and threw in a fresh crate of meds and bandages. The old man gave the smuggler a name that might prove profitable in the future as he lit another clove cigarette, and then offered a word of caution.

"There's men looking for a Firefly," Wardy wheezed softly. "Offering the shiny coin and pretty little promises to those with directions."

"I know how tempting that coin can be," Mal said slowly, searching the man's face for a hint of worse news.

"Not as tempting as continued business with my friend Reynolds," Wardy grinned, his yellow teeth showing the start of decay. "A shiny coin does me some nice now, but what happens when my friends cannot trust me to deal honestly? Who offers me shiny coins then, I ask you?"

"Who indeed," Mal mused, his respect for the man increasing. Badger would have taken the coin in half a heartbeat.

"If I was on a Firefly, though," Wardy went on. "I'd be extra careful. Those