Disclaimer: All of Firefly belongs to Joss Whedon

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She was dancing with Atherton, flicking eyes and all, but for those brief moments when her eyes flicked away, she was stealing glances at Mal. Discretely, of course, she shuddered to think of how Atherton would react if he knew she was eyeing another man on his time, but she quickly amended that thought: she wasn’t “eyeing” another man: Malcolm Reynolds could hardly be called even that. He was a low life, degenerate captain with a “spotty” reputation at best.

Atherton tells her a joke, something about Francesca Allemonde and the country club, to which Inara objectively giggles. He follows it up with a suggestive remark, which Inara also laughs at but quells him with a feminine plea to stop. He smiles and complies, and she takes the opportunity to flick her eyes once more. Mal is by one of the massive pillars talking stiffly with a count or baron of some sort. He stares back, stopping in his conversation, and she flicks her eyes back to Atherton.

This time she is found out. Atherton catches the flicking eyes. He candidly asks her what has drawn her attention and she covers by asking him who the man in the sash is. He tells her he is Sir Warrick Harrow and gallantly offers to introduce her to him. Inara can see what is quickly coming, and she attempts to politely deny the introduction, but Atherton insists. At this, she is instantly thrown off guard, her mind racing ten times faster than her feet. What will she say? How will she act? Of course if Mal were a client those questions would be easy to answer, but the thought of Mal as a client, well…laughable really, and why the hell did that come to her mind?

Indecision becomes her demeanor, a stiff, almost angry stance in comparison to the fluid, yet composed stance she had as Atherton’s escort. She can’t believe that her companion training has been offset by a backwater transport ship captain, but that’s a dilemma she’ll have to contemplate later.

A moment passes and they have joined Mal