Zoe raised her head at the sound of the intership comm. The familiar buzz, and then Wash’s voice, his irrepressible cheerfulness barely concealed beneath an attempt at professionalism.

“Zoe, report to the bridge. Repeat, will Zoe make her lovely way to the bridge.”

She rolled her eyes, pressed her hands to the table and lifted herself from her chair. Mal crossed her path as she left the mess hall for the bridge, he having come from that direction. He gave her a significant look, one not absent of a little humor, and passed her deliberately. Zoe made her way to the bridge, guns blazing for a little revenge.

Wash had his back to her, his dinos arranged artfully about the console. Zoe started right in.

“Do I sense an inappropriate abuse of power here, Wash?” she demanded, hands on hips.

Wash spun in his chair. “Are you referring to my position as pilot of this ship, or my infinitely more enjoyable position as your lo-ver?”

She sighed. “You’re not keeping our secret very well, Wash.”

He linked his fingers behind his head and leaned back in the pilot’s chair.

“C’mon, Zoe,” he pleaded. “It’s been, say...one month. Today!”

She raised one eyebrow, but quickly counted the days in her head. Gorram it, he was right.

“Besides,” he said with a sly smile. “It took some extensive connections - and begging - to smuggle these on board.”

Reaching under the console, Wash suddenly produced a bouquet of crimson lilies, the stems swathed in a piece of cream-colored silk. Zoe couldn’t repress a small gasp. She accepted them ruefully, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth.

“They don’t go with my outfit.”

“Nonsense, my dear! That’s part two. Go to your bunk and get yourself all dolled up. We’re docking on Persephone in....” He glanced at the chronometer. “Forty-five minutes. And I’m taking you out for the finest dinner can be found on this side of the ‘Verse.”

As she retreated, stunned, to her bunk to change, Zoe couldn’t help but shake her head. What in