No money, no intent to defraud. Don't mind me, here, just foolin' around.

*****

“Gerard, I don’t want that skinny bitch to have our money,” Bothney said. “I’m not going to take on that Firefly crew, but that Miss Whoever-She-Is is not going to get our money. We earned it, wasting our time out here on this god-forsaken rock. Let’s go take it away from her.”

***

Mal and Isabel Warrick walked through the passageways of the Edgarton docks. It was well past midnight, but there was still occasional traffic, mostly local fliers bringing market goods in for the greenmarket. They walked in silence, both alert. In spite of Isabel’s protestations, she was more grateful than she cared to admit that Mal had elected to walk her home. She was sure of her ability to defend herself, but accompanied she was less likely to have to. Mal kept Miss Warrick on his left side, his coat concealing his gun in its holster, but his hand never far from it.

They had been walking perhaps ten minutes when Bothney and Gerard slid in behind them. Mal and Miss Warrick both heard the footsteps.

“They’re not very accomplished, are they?” she whispered without turning her head. “Just like Atherton to try to do this on the cheap.”

“Miss Warrick, you need to run. Now,” Mal whispered back.

“No, I don’t think so,” she answered. “If I run and you draw your gun we’ll both be shot in the back. We need to walk slowly, let them catch up. I’m going to take my gun out of my pocket slowly, don’t be nervous. Don’t you reach for your gun; I said I don’t want to be shot in the back.” Miss Warrick half-turned toward Mal, leaning against him and slowing his steps. She pressed her right thigh against his left side and tipped her head back to look up at Mal soulfully.

“It would be more convincing if you would put your left arm around me,” she said. Mal complied. As he did she slid her hand into her coat for her gun, concealing her gesture from the followers with her own right shoulder and Mal’s left arm.

“Imagine I’m whispering