Sitting in the pilot's chair, Mal adjusts the T-Rex - Crichton - on the dashboard, prepping the pre-flight sequence while being completely aware of the presence in the co-pilot's chair.
"You gonna ride shotgun, help me fly?"
Not that he doesn't have some tension to clear off.
This is why Mal adds another ten pounds to each side of Jayne's steel barbell and leans back for another set of reps.
Mal is not bored. He's working.
He's gone through about anything he can think of to be polite and considerate and all those things he'd ever been taught, and failing.
Giving up and scrawling on a piece of paper a short note, Mal folds it in half and places it next to a pure white crane he had been practicing folding for forty five minutes previous. It took him awhile because he had to remember what a crewmember of his had specified, which crease goes first and all that.
Finally satisfied, he takes the note and the origami piece to the infirmary. Simon'll get it to River; Mal can't really think of a reason why River'd be interested in seeing him at the moment.
She'll understand.
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timeasmymeasure
