Anya flung herself into Mal’s arms, almost upending the chair in the process. “If you ain’t sure, let me decide,” she said earnestly. “I don’t want ya’ to go, Captain Mal. Don’t want ya’ to end up like my Daddy.”
Mal blinked slowly, his troubled blue eyes meeting her matching ones. “I’ll keep that in mind, little one,” he answered softly.
-- Revolution--Part III--History Lessons by slumming