Inara walked up the remaining stairs slowly, peering over the railing to see if either Lily or the figure in velvet reappeared. They did not, and she took a moment before the doorway to Jin’s quarters—his suite, she thought, I’ve been on board ship too long. His doorbell was shaped like an acorn, and she rang it briefly.

Jin opened the door. Some men, when they got older, just stopped trying. They put on weight, they abandoned good grooming, they let monkeys pick out their clothing. But not Jin. He was a tall, still-trim man with silver-and-black hair, which today as always was neatly clipped and impeccably styled. He was wearing a deep purple smoking jacket, belted at the waist, over silk pajama bottoms. The angular edges of the jacket gave his slim figure a decidedly dapper cast.

“Inara! ” he said. “I’m just…I’m speechless. I knew that you were beautiful, but—”

He was, with all sincerity, struggling for words.

“Bu gan dang,” said Inara, as they fondly embraced. Despite her humble words, she felt a quiet surge of pride. Jin never complained when you got it wrong, but he always let you know when you’d gotten it right.

Eventually, as she knew he would, he complimented her dress, saying that he especially liked the color. She smiled again. It was always best when they didn’t know why they liked what they liked: Without the mystery, a companion’s allure was just technique. And while good technique when recognized as such could generate admiration, it could never inspire passion.

They sat down on Jin’s leather sofa, and he began spooning loose tea into a pot that was sitting on the wooden table.

“Jin!” said Inara, laughing. “Isn’t that my job?”

“Oh, sorry,” he said, moving the pot to her.

She looked at him slyly as she poured in the hot water. “You’re not doing much to stop those rumors that you’ve had academy training,” she teased.

He put his finger to his lips, smiling. “I guess I won’t tell you about my dulcimer. So, did you see Lily on your way in?”

“Oh, yes,” Inara said, after a mo