His fists clenched behind his back, and he tried hard to relax them and make sure she didn't see. Mal couldn't go letting her watch him squirm. For a moment, he said nothing at all, the muscles in his neck unreasonably tight. Then he opened his mouth to speak and closed it again.
If shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine If it had a home would it be my eyes Would you believe me if I said I'm tired of this Well here we go now one more time.
Working his jaw for a moment, he studied the deck. Maybe he could just pretend she hadn't said that, and move on graceful-like. And maybe Jayne would come down and offer to give a classical introduction to the gorram cello. He struggled to come up with a response that wasn't his usual jab, then struggled against the urge to say something that was actually meaningful.
I tried to climb your steps I tried to chase you down I tried to see how low I could get it down to the ground I tried to earn my way I tried to tame this mind You better believe that I tried to beat this.
"Well, I wager they'd appreciate that." He said it in a way that indicated how little he believed it could be true. Maybe that was enough. It was a compromise between being his usual fool self and something more respectful. Genteel.
So when will this end it goes on and on Over and over and over again Keep spinning around I know that it won't stop Till I step down from this for good.
Then, just as suddenly, he blurted out, "She'll miss you. Kaylee, I mean." It was thin, paper thin and weak. I'll miss you.