Malcolm didn’t answer right away. Apparently, the effort of choosing his words was arduous. It made him do something of a dance. He crossed his legs, immediately uncrossed them, slid down in his seat to recline, then pushed back up and leaned forward on his elbows. Finally, he crossed his legs again and huddled up around himself, pretzeling in an odd way, before he spoke. “I just feel a mite…” He hunched his shoulders and didn’t look at Inara. “…dirty.”
-- Back Stories III, Chapter 13 by mal4prez