In the lounge, Mal watched through the window as Simon worked as fast as his hands would go. He turned to look at Book.
“If you still intend to kill me, Captain, may I suggest we take it off the ship?” the man said softly. Mal grimaced.
“I can’t rightly kill a man that’s helped me and mine,” he growled. “‘Spect you know that. Don’t mean I like you any, though.”
“There is nothing about me for you to like,” Book replied, his voice still soft. “I told you before, Malcolm. I am a monster. I was not always so, however,” he added, and Mal noted that his shoulders were slumped slightly.
“But that is water beneath the bridge, as they say,” he straightened noticeably. “I will take my leave, now. I would take it as a kindness, if you would let me know. . .”
He nodded into the infirmary.
“I’ll see to it,” Mal nodded in agreement.
-- Archangel Forty-Two by badkarma00