“Well, if this don’t beat all,” he thought as he watched the girl descend the ladder into his quarters. She turned to look at him when she got to the bottom and they stayed like that for what seemed, to him, forever: She in the hatch, him on his bunk, each appraising the other. He noticed her moon-brained look was gone. In fact, he hadn’t seen her look so lucid since Miranda when the blast doors had opened and she stood, living, among all the fallen Reavers. The sudden recalling of that moment sent a frisson of pleasure up his spine and she smiled at him. It was a predatory smile and he gripped the edge of his bunk hard, suddenly afraid and, for the first time in his life, unsure as to whether he was the hunter or the game.

Enough, he’d had enough.

“Listen, Crazy,” he said, his voice coming out weaker than it had any right to “I ain’t the one to be playin’ games with. I suggest you turn back around afore we got a problem.”

She took a graceful step towards him and he thought of Miranda again. Imagining what she must have looked like on the other side of that door. All lithe lines and murderous intents. She chuckled softly and he snapped back to reality.

“She looks so pretty when you think of her like that,” she said “She wears the blood like rubies. Think on her some more, Jayne.”

“Alright, Moony, that’s it,” he growled “You git yourself back to wherever it was you came from. I don’t know what it is you’re about, but I ain’t interested.”

To emphasize his point, he pulled down the blanket that concealed his arsenal and laid one hand on Vera. River continued across the room.

“I think you are,” she said “Interested.”

“I-“ he started, but was cut short as she grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it over her head with one swift movement. She smiled at his dumbstruck look.

“Not a stitch,” he muttered “Not a gorram stitch. I…. Ah, hell.”

He put his head in his hands and tried to simultaneously ignore her and make his pants a little roomier. They had suddenly gotten tight and he wasn’t rea