He was a taught string. A tripwire in fact. Hell, so was she. She forced herself to take a breath, hand tightening on her husband's shoulder.

And the lummox kept his mouth moving. Mal turned away, for that she was glad. But the elation was brief.

"I'm talkin' at you! How many men in your platoon came outta there alive?" His eyes bored into the captain. He was deadly serious. He was also about to be seriously dead.

Mal slowly turned back round. His eyes harsh as the pain she shared with him. He said nothing, but she could see the threat.

"You wanna leave this room." She allowed her voice to be toneless. Dead.

Jayne's eyes flicked quickly to her face. "Damn right I do." He moved off, up the stairs. Not quickly, but he got the drift.

Then it was Inara's turn. Seems no one could let it be. "This isn't your war, Mal." She sounded worried. But it was only making matters worse for everyone.

He turned toward her. His move was slow, deliberate. Cold, just as it had been with Jayne. "Are you tellin' me that 'cause you think I don't know?"

Now it was her turn to get a bit angry. "You came to the training house looking for a fight."

He softened. A bit. "I came lookin' for you."

At that Inara lowered her eyes. Zoe exhaled. Softly Inara continued, "I just want to know who I'm dealing with. I've seen too many versions of you to be sure."

Mal's jaw tightened. "I star fighting a war, I guarantee you'll see somethin' new." He turned then, firmly. No one would call him back. He'd had his say.

Zoe relaxed then, realizing her hand was resting on the butt of her gun. Actually resting was not the case, it was in fact gripping it quite tightly.