Firefly - Jayne
Jayne hates feeling helpless. Sure, there’s enough gear to haul about to keep him busy, patients to transport and corpses to haul. He ain’t fussed about that part: seen a lot of dead folks in his life, helped a lot of them along himself.
This is different, though. Listening to Simon and Zoë and River confer, talking fevers and RNA sequences and whatnot, there’s a deeper sense of uselessness, like an itch he can’t scratch. His brain’s fine for the day-to-day stuff, but this he’s no good with.
Grimly, he swallows the grating self-pity. Just get on with the bodies.