Inara knelt before her makeshift altar to Buddha and lit a stick of incense, inhaling the woody fragrance. Closing her eyes, she focused on the individual notes of the scent, letting each take her deeper into meditation.

Sandalwood: solid and grounding. Jasmine: sultry and centering. Green Tea: sharp, a little bitter, and uplifting. Amber: provocative and transporting. Soap: clean and…. Soap?

Inara opened one eye and sighed loudly when she saw Mal standing in the doorway of her shuttle.

“Zhòu mà qīn rù zhě,” she muttered “I am trying to pray. I thought we agreed you wouldn’t come aboard without my permission.”

Mal sauntered in, leaned against a wall, and grinned. He had always privately sworn that Inara was never more lovely than when she was flustered. Right now, she was beautiful. Looking around the shuttle, his memories of how it used to look and its present state sharply contrasted with one another. All the sumptuous trappings had gone and it looked plain, utilitarian. Except for the jewel toned bedding on the simple cot and the gilded statue of Buddha, no trace of Inara’s former occupation remained.

“Coming along nicely in here,” he said.

She rolled her eyes at him and stood up, brushing off her gown where it had touched the floor.

“It’s coming,” she answered “Though, I don’t know if nicely is the right term. I thought about waving Sihnon for my things, but--”

“But?” he asked nonchalantly.

Inara looked at him and narrowed her eyes.

“If it’s rent you’re worried about, I have more than enough-“

“It’s not the rent,” he said quickly “No one said anything about rent, I-“

“Then why are you here?”

“I just thought, I mean, I-“He rubbed his hands through his hair and stared at every point of interest besides her.

“Yes?” she asked, the hope in her voice barely concealed by a note of impatience.

“Mǔ de lǎo tiān yě, woman,” he exclaimed “Has anyone ever told you that you have a way of being right infuriatin’?”

“I believe you’ve