Angelle's mine, all the rest belongs to Mr. Whedon.

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Reconnaissance....the art of collecting info without the other party knowing you're collecting info. It can also be called spying or my personal favorite and what I was doing at the present....eavesdropping. Now, if you were to ask my father about any of my incredible hidden talents, the first he would name was my uncanny ability to pick up on any conversation involving me as its subject. I got really good when my mother was still alive.

Mal and Inara had fought for a good hour before finally ending it with her walking away to the relative safety of her shuttle and the good captain to the quiet of the bridge. Maybe it was me actually caring about how he felt or that my father had taught me to be a peacemaker, but either way, I followed behind him, slowly so he wouldn't quite know that's what I was doing.

By the time I had reached the steps, Mal was already engaged in a conversation, and since I hadn't seen anyone go into the bridge with him and everyone had been there for the fight, I assumed he had waved someone. As I listened more closely (Just to make sure he was safe, mind you) I realized that the other voice was way too familiar.

"I just wanted to let you know she had ended up with us. Figured she hadn't waved ya, yet."

"She paid you, right? Told Stix that whoever she took a ride with to pay." It was my dad alright. No one else in their right mind would call me Stix, behind my back or to my face. Consider it a father's pet name for his daughter and leave it at that.

"She did. Good kid, lot like her old man." Mal laughed, but it offended me a bit. Is that what he thought? I was just a kid. "Might prettier than you led me to believe."

"I didn't lead you to believe anything. You just figured 'cuz she was from the Bayou, she was some sort of hillbilly." My dad's chuckle could wake the dead. It was nice hearing it. "Ya seem tired, Malcolm? What's up?"

"Just trouble of mine I