Mal was fretting like an old woman, Jayne thought, and Wash wasn't much better. The pilot had gone all snarky trying to actually reach the shuttle's helm around the unyielding bulk of the torpedo; he'd had to strip out of his own suit, climb under the torpedo and then over the back of the pilot's chair, and was now struggling back into his suit in the confines of the pilot's seat. Jayne busied himself checking the seals on his suit, while the Wash and the captain wasted time and breathing air on their sniping.

"Just how am I supposed to get back out of here?" the pilot demanded, "if I can't get in with the suit on, how am I supposed to get back out again?"

"Figure something out," Mal snapped irritably. "Preferably somethin' as don't involve whining, 'cause I'm sick of listening to it."

"Right," Wash said, "No more whining about being sent to my certain and agonizing death. Got it."

Jayne watched Mal's mouth twitch and thought, if he could get at Wash, he'd slug him. His own lips curled at the thought. As it was, he figured he'd have to manhandle the pilot, suit and all, back over the seat and under the torpedo to get him free. Be a real shame if that suit caught on something and tore. Not that he'd do it on purpose, or nothin'. Just that it could happen, and Jayne couldn't say as he'd regret it all that much. Well, he admitted grudgingly to himself, he might not regret losing the pilot all that much -- stupid gao yang had been right difficult lately, going on and on about his missing cat and his missing wife and his missing breathing air like anybody could do anything about any of that -- but once they all got back together and everything set to rights again, well, it could get a little uncomfortable then. Especially if Wash's missing wife got herself found. Sometimes Jayne wondered just why he'd chosen to stay in a spot where there were so many people -- Mal, Zoe, River, even the doc sometimes -- could make him want to sleep with a gun in his hand.