INT. COMM ROOM

Spade sits at a comm unit of his own, though his is not quite as fancy as Nils'. The room is semi-dark, a small desk lamp lighting Spade and the comm unit.

Spade hangs up the mic, his breath coming out loudly, obviously frustrated. He looks over his shoulder at Danielle.

SPADE: I don't like it. I can't abide sittin' her on my proverbial thumb while an old friend puts his ass on the line for something he ain't even got all the particulars regardin'.

He looks down, shaking his head. Danielle rubs his shoulders

DANIELLE: And yet, that may be exactly what we need to do. Mal's rep is solid. He gets it done. Heard tell he's responsible for that broadwave we saw few weeks back. SPADE: You mean that Miranda business? If it was him, ain't no way the blue bloods woulda let him keep breathin' this long, let alone flyin'. DANIELLE: Or he's just too slippery for them to get ahold of. Honey, if I had to put my platinum on anyone but you, it'd be on Mal.

SPADE: Agreed. I'm still thinkin' we should stack the deck a piece...

INT. INARA'S SHUTTLE

Inara's shuttle is ornate and beautiful, returned to it's former splendor. Mal sits on a stool, a towel draped over his shoulders, his back to Inara. She is running one hand through Mal's hair, a pair of clippers in the other.

MAL: Not too much now. I ain't no baby-faced grunt just arrived at basic.

INARA: (still shuffling Mal's hair) Well, “grunt” does come to mind, though in a different context. Now hold still.

Mal turns to look at her. MAL: I'm serious. If I see scalp, I'm gonna...

Inara grabs his head and forces him to look ahead again.

INARA: I said hold still. Eyes forward.

Mal complies this time, a small grin on his face.

MAL: (under his breath) Sound like my drill instructor.

Inara begins to trim the back of Mal's head, her movements confident. She pauses periodically to take a step back and check her work.

MAL: I didn't know they taught ya'll how to be barbers at who....er...yer school.

INARA: I'm not surprised. My skills range a great deal beyond the obvious.

MAL: So I've been told. Heard you took down your share of Reavers with that fancy bow o' yers.

INARA: A memory I'd rather soon be rid of.

MAL: (respectfully) Won't bring it up again.

Inara holds her cutting for a beat, tilts her head, then continues.

MAL: Nice kicks you threw in the training house. I always knew you were graceful, but...

INARA: You didn't associate it with any martial ability. Well, we didn't just learn how to bed men and dance, if that's what you thought.

MAL: Clearly not.

Inara moves around in front of Mal, still cutting. He watches the tufts of hair fall before his eyes. They close for a moment as if the sight is too much to bear.

INARA: I'm really not taking off that much, just cleaning it up a bit.

MAL: Well, I see plenty of bits fallin' to the floor.

INARA: (mildly exasperated) I'm almost finished.

She leans in close to snip a couple of stray locks. Mal breathes deep.

MAL: (muttering) You've, uh, changed perfumes.

Inara smiles and straigtens up

INARA: There. Would you like to see?

MAL: You tell me.

Inara shoves a small mirror into his hand. Mal inspects his head from all angles.

MAL: Not bad. I wasn't sure what to expect, but...

Inara shakes her head and snatches the mirror from him.

INARA: Just as I wasn't expecting a thank you.

Mal looks offended. MAL: (stands, brushing hair from himself) I just hadn't gotten to it yet. So, well... thanks.

INARA: (mildly surprised again) You're welcome. (beat) Well, shouldn't you be on your way?

MAL: Yep, s'pose I should. (turns to leave, pauses, looks at Inara) Think the day'll come when I leave this shuttle without you glarin' at my back?

Mal exits. Inara stares at the door, her mouth slightly open.

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