Jayne poured out another three fingers of what was currently passing for whisky into his glass. “Another?” he asked, lifting the bottle.

Hank tried to raise his head from the table but failed miserably. “Um, no, thanks. I’m good,” his muffled voice said.

The big man grinned, reached over and yanked the pilot up by the scruff of the neck. “You dying?”

“Ow.”

“Then you ain't dead yet. Here.” He poured a little neat whisky into Hank’s mouth.

Since it was either swallow or drown, Hank did the next best thing and let it dribble out, all over his t-shirt.

“Now that’s just a waste.” Jayne let go and the other man’s forehead thumped back onto the table.

“Ow. Again.” He managed to unpeel his cheek from the old wood, pushing himself up with his arms. “Did you have to?”

“Did you have to come in and rescue me?” Jayne countered.

“Seemed like the thing to do,” Hank admitted, leaning into the chair and letting his head fall back. It certainly felt too heavy to hold up. “At the time. Don’t think I’m not beginning to regret it right now.”

“Nah. You and me, we make a good team.” Jayne tossed his whisky down his throat and filled the glasses again. “Come on. One more. For luck.”

“I thought Mal didn’t believe in it.”

“I ain't Mal. And I’ll take anything I can get lets me live another day. ‘Specially when I got a little woman like that waiting for me in the shuttle.”

Hank eyed him with difficulty. His vision seemed to be permanently blurred. “Little woman?”

“River, a’course.”

“Oh, I know who you were talking about. Just not sure what you just said about living another day and calling her the ‘little woman’ go together.”

“Hell, she knows what I think.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” He blinked several times. “I think I’m going blind.”

“Nope. That’s just the effects of the whisky.”

“You sure it ain't wood alcohol?”

“Nah. That’s got a different taste entirely.” He knocked back his own, then Hank’s, since the other man didn’t seem inclined to dr