The small room was dark and dingy; the only noises the occasional shuffle of a bored guard and the slow, purposeful squeak of an apple peeler as the man who lounged behind the cluttered desk leisurely turned the handle. The man fit in well with the décor of the room, unsurprising really. As it was his office, he had furnished it to his own ‘illusions of grandeur’ taste. However, the woman who ducked through the shadowy entrance seemed out of place in the thief’s den, her pale, delicate clothing and reserved stance spelt out a sheltered, protected upbringing. “So… Badger” She murmured from behind her long eyelashes, “I hear you have some information for me.” “So, Sweetheart, I hear you have some money for me first.” A crafty grin spread across his face as he peered out from beneath his battered bowler hat at the shy young woman before him. She took a slow step forward and gave a half smile back. “I like my privacy” Badger motioned for his bodyguards to leave, something he would never usually do. But this girl? She had been searched at the entrance so he knew she was unarmed, and anyway, what could a waif like this ever do to him? Alone with her, he could have some fun. As they left, she pulled out a thick wad of notes from in her dress and placed them on the desk, manicured fingernails running lightly across them as she withdrew her hand. Never taking his eyes off her, Badger picked up the wad and flicked lazily through it. “Ah, but dahlin’, this ain’t the amount we agreed on.” He regretted it instantly. She was over the desk in a flash, pinning Badger to his chair and crushing his windpipe with one surprisingly strong forearm, before he could even think about shouting for his guards. Not that would. Caught unsuspecting by a woman? They would loose any respect they ever had for him there and then. “No.” she hissed, “This is exactly what we agreed on. Now tell me what I want to hear, or you won’t live to see me leave. Dong ma?” Her bright blue eyes bored into his, letting him know without a doubt that she would carry out her threat. His own eyes bulged from lack of oxygen, and the terrible pressure on his throat eased ever so slightly, allowing his to speak. “Hoban Washburne pilots an old 03 – K64 – Firefly class transport ship, name of Serenity. Registered to one Malcolm Reynolds. They’re due to land here at the Eastdown Docks this afternoon. Bound for Vesta, a tiny moon, way out on the rim.” He wheezed. This seemed to be what the woman wanted, and she released a grateful Badger and clambered off his chair. “Why you so interested in him anyway?” he pestered, back to his old bolshy self again now that his life wasn’t at stake. “That’s between me and Hoban Washburne” She replied. Disgustedly, she tore off her dress, revealing – to Badger’s disappointment - trousers and shirt, and knee-length boots underneath. “Hate these ruttin things” she muttered to herself, and dropped it on the desk. “You can keep that,” she grinned at the stunned Badger. “Souvenir.” She sighed heavily as she turned to leave, and Badger strained to hear them, but her final words were lost behind her curtain of untidy red-blonde hair. “Me and Hobie.”