Wash raises a skeptical eyebrow, but says nothing. A screen to his left chirrups out an alert, and, absently, he punches in a sequence and readjusts the yoke.
Mal didn't make it halfway down the steps into the corridor before Wash spoke.
Staring at the step below him, Mal matches Wash's tone -- friendly, but probably more tired than exasperated -- "Things ain't goin' so well 'tween me and Kaylee, and I didn't tell Zoe a lot of things what happened with me leading up to Miranda. And I don't know how to say it to her now."
"Which you're not." Beat. "That much, but...the good kind of crazy. The crazy I kind of enjoy. And I told her that you damn well did have the right to do what you did -- not the right to take it out on her, but everything with Niska, yeah."
"Was she right, though?" Mal picks up momentum a bit, though he doesn't move back up from the steps. "Was she right to believe me so...incapable that I was an idiot to want to go against Niska and then I should be berated and beat down by her after? I do that enough to myself, Hoban."
"We all put Kaylee in a really bad position," he says carefully, at last, "when we went and took our nice shiny impromptu one-week vacation to the cells. She ain't ever supposed to be running this ship. And she got angry about it, which, okay," his mouth twists a little in sympathy, "yes, she's right to do that, but --
"But that's just my point, she's not right to say you can't go after him -- I mean, yeah, we shouldn't have, but that's in the same 'verse where we're all rich and prosperous and law-abiding -- just like you're not right to completely blow a circuit at her. Am I veering anywhere toward sense-making?"
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His amiable smile fades a little when he catches the fumbling. Wash straightens up, taking his feet off of the console.
"You sure everything's shiny?" he asks.
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Mal's not about to change that now.
"Yeah," answered too quickly, but way too definitively for a lot of questioning. "Shiny."
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"I think I might go make a second cup."
Mal picks up both coffee mugs, and turns to leave.
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It's friendly enough.
It's also just the tiniest bit exasperated, but it's a well-hidden exasperation.
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Staring at the step below him, Mal matches Wash's tone -- friendly, but probably more tired than exasperated -- "Things ain't goin' so well 'tween me and Kaylee, and I didn't tell Zoe a lot of things what happened with me leading up to Miranda. And I don't know how to say it to her now."
"I'll stick to the coffee I think."
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"Did Kaylee tell you I talked to her?"
Uncertain, now, as he scratches his ear.
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He spreads his hands with a patently incredulous air.
"The hell, Mal?"
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"Wo dong, wo dong, I know, but...she said I didn't have any right to do what I did. I should've know better, I -- she thinks I'm crazy, Wash."
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"We all put Kaylee in a really bad position," he says carefully, at last, "when we went and took our nice shiny impromptu one-week vacation to the cells. She ain't ever supposed to be running this ship. And she got angry about it, which, okay," his mouth twists a little in sympathy, "yes, she's right to do that, but --
"But that's just my point, she's not right to say you can't go after him -- I mean, yeah, we shouldn't have, but that's in the same 'verse where we're all rich and prosperous and law-abiding -- just like you're not right to completely blow a circuit at her. Am I veering anywhere toward sense-making?"
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"To start with, talk to her again. Without throwing things. Or losing your temper. It's Kaylee, Mal, that shouldn't be too hard."
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Y'know, ever?
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"Has a little fact like that ever gotten in the way of me running my mouth at somebody? Just follow my fine example, Cap'n. You'll be fine."
If there's any preening, it's only for effect.
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"I'll try."
"...can I go get that other coffee now?"
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He swings his chair back around.