Inara. Jayne. Kaylee.

Post-Serenity.

Free for all ages.

Talkity talking.

--------------------------

Data For Storage

--------------------------

There's a spring in his step, or would be, if his bulk supported that sort of defiance of gravity and the whistling of something that sounds crude even wordless only gives greater strength to her theory.

"Oh, hey 'Nara!"

Then there is the shirt. Or, actually The Shirt.

Yes, with a probability approaching certainty, Jayne is about to step off the boat and partake in the less than savory nightlife offers of Ezra's biggest poor town, site of what has already been dubbed the Raisin Job.

"Good evening." Her smile is genuine in the way that it can be for Jayne when no one else is around to notice.

He has one muddy boot propped up on Mal's chair, polishing away at one of the more visible stains with the edge of his sleeve and maybe it's the boredom and maybe it's the lack of catastrophes this month but she is ready to consider it more adorable than paining.

"Where are you headed," she asks as if she doesn't know.

Mal and Zoe are taking care of business. Kaylee and Simon are up to private matters and River has taken to staring at the soles of her feet, offering up not much in the way of company.

Not that she really needs an excuse to make conversation with Jayne, but something in her demands one.

"Pal a few years back told me they's got a sorta union on Ezra, keepin' the whores all clean and purty. Figure I oughta get myself a samplin'."

Jayne has a way of grinning with his teeth apart that's both dirty and smeared with a sort of innocence, the kind that's more ignorant than pure.

Inara has a way of smiling - well, practiced - that's both polite and touched by condescension, the kind that's more pitying than mean.

"Sounds like an opportunity not to be missed."

He nods, obviously pleased at the agreement and it takes a little bit of work to hold back the sigh. Irony is everyone's best friend when