Malcolm Beauregard Reynolds

Ship's pretty quiet, and by the sound of the uncomfortable gurgling in Mal's stomach, dinnertime's come and gone.

This does not mean he has any intention of climbing out of his bunk to get anything to munch on, however. He's got books to keep him company, and his long-ago present from Susan stares at him from across his room forcefully enough that he goes to pick it up, more to flip through the pictures of Earth-that-Was London than to really study the words on the page.

It certainly was a pretty set-up, Mal had to say. As Inara flew Shuttle One after splitting off from Serenity, it wasn't more than ten minutes or so until the House Madrassa Temple came into view.

According to Inara, temples are all pretty much the same, according to what house they are affiliated with. House Madrassa seems particularly addicted to scrollwork and lotus motifs, red and gold everywhere. Even the docking bay had a white and red lotus design painted into the floor.

Once the shuttle was locked, Mal pulls the hatch door back, immediately catching sight of an older woman waiting some distance off from the door.

Mal bows shortly to her, feeling immediately out of his depth and looking awkwardly to Inara or Zoe for help.

Shadow Planetary Financial Group. The global banking conglomerate that ate up any and all independent efforts folk laid out to control their own land. You either owed them somethin' or you worked for 'em, which meant you owed them somethin' anyway.

Mal and Zoe don't owe them jack shit. They owe Mal.

Collection's due.

It is just this thought of collection that hovers in Mal's head as he waltzes in through the front door of the bank and pistolwhips the first guard he comes across.

Mal stands on one of the walkways above the cargo bay floor. He does that more often now - easier than talking to people.

If he hears Zoe coming, he's not actively trying to ignore her. Just...she might not be coming to talk to him, right?