Absolutely nothing to do with that other universe I've been playing in. Just a short exercise to make sure I can still approach canon well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoe arched a brow, and looked sideways at Mal.

“I last served under Willby and his gang.” The wiry man kept on running his thumb across his goatee. “The ‘Tough Love’, Vesper model.”

“We run a Firefly.” Zoe looked like a wet cat. She hadn’t even touched her mug of ale as the thick smell of alcohol and tobacco stung their noses. The saloon was raucous, dark, dank, and the perfect place to look for employees. She kept on giving Mal the sideways glare.

Mal shifted in his seat. Zoe’s eyes were like hellfire they were. Made a man nervous, like he needed to guard his underbelly.

“Old as dirt, hold up well.” He sniffed, his eyes homely and grey as he took a drink if saki. Slamming the cup onto the wooden table, he flashed a toothy smile. “I can handle that. Flown a few in my day. Unfortunately I’m gettin’ long in the tooth.”

“No need for apologies.” Mal poured him another cup. “I need someone with some history. Person that’s seen the ‘Verse knows the thing our two about tight sitcheeations. We don’t want no one green.” He then poured himself a cup of saki and tossed it back.

“Well I surely ain’t green Mr. Reynolds.”

Smacking his lips, he settled his arms on the cheaply made table. “Good, but I wanna hear more about this crew you flew for. Reckon’ I haven’t had the pleasure of knowing a Willby nor a fine vessel like you described.”

“We hauled cargo of a questionable nature.” He pulled out a tin case “Always arriving on schedule, nary a hiccup. Kept ‘em safe in the sky...”

“So why are you out here hustlin’ for a job?” Zoe cut him off, sharply.

He pulled out a cigarette, sticking it betwixt his lips. “Time ta move on, Miss.” He dug into his jacket pocket and fumbled for his light. “Folks change, crews change, weren’t who we were when we first started runnin’ together. Time to leave in my book.” He found the