Mal's face contorted in a look of discomfited frustration. She had, predictably, seen straight through the smooth transition into the comfortable land of fighting. He stared up at her (up!) and pursed his lips even tighter.
Finally, something like honesty won through, but it was tinged with true bitterness. He stood slowly, barely a foot away from her across the small table, and said, "Bet you're enjoyin' this mighty good." He looked momentarily defeated, angry, and weak, but still defiant.