After a few weeks on Serenity , Wash decided to shave his mustache.

It was time for a change, he'd decided. He'd grown it out when he'd lost a bet in flight school and had eventually grown fond of the thing. Now, though, he was in a new life on a new ship with a new crew and...well, it was just time. It had nothing to do with the fact that the first mate - Zoë - had referred to it in passing as "that caterpillar on his lip" when she thought Wash couldn't hear her. And it certainly had nothing to do with the fact that her opinion mattered to him. Significantly.

He stared in the mirror a moment longer at the clean upper lip before turning to the collection of plastic dinosaurs that lined the shelf alongside his bed. He hadn't yet put them all on the bridge. The Captain hadn't said anything, but Wash knew the Tyrannosaurus Rex's appearance there had given the man a moment's pause. He thought slowly introducing them might make the transition easier on Reynolds.

"Well, fellas?" he asked the plastic audience. "What do you think?"

They stared back silently.

"My sentiments exactly," he sighed. He looked back in the mirror and shrugged. Too late now. He put the towel back on its rack and climbed out of his room. He went directly to the bridge and checked the course before heading to the kitchen for some dinner. Despite Reynolds' promise to locate and hire a cook at some point, everyone was still relying on the cooking skills taught by their own mothers. And Wash was relatively certain some mothers hadn't really put much effort into their teachings as some others had.

Bester had cooked that night. As was the usual practice on those nights, Bester had thrown some things in a pan, fried it in some oil and called it food. Following that, everyone usually pushed the charred and sizzling bits of whatever-it-once-might-have-been around on their plates while Bester ate his fill, then cleared out quickly. Several hours later, people who actually enjoyed food tasting as it should would return and make someth