"Says his captain's a right prick," Mal replied in a low murmur that he wasn't really sure if he wanted Jaime to hear or not, crossing his arms... which cause him to drop his crutches. He stared at them as they hit the floor, decided he didn't care, and leaned against the fridge instead. He'd pick them up later.
When she snorted at friends, he took it the wrong way, the hurt leaving his face to be replaced by a closed off, dark expression. He thought she meant that they weren't friends, and he was frustrated with himself for thinking they were. He shrugged his shoulders, pretending like he was indifferent, and at that point did reach down to pick up his crutches, intending to leave before he made a bigger ass of himself, muttering a frustrated, "Have it your way, then."
But then she kept talking, and he raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her. Unable to manage to figure out how to turn his body to keep weight off his leg while still picking up the crutch, he gave up if she still wanted to talk, leaning back against the fridge, "T'be honest, I clicked it off when you were talkin' 'bout how you didn't love people. Figured it was personal, an' you wouldn't want people listenin' in. An' with you being so..." he waved a hand, indicating he was having trouble finding the right words. "... careful, 'bout who you share things with, you wouldn't take it well. Figured I'd give you a bit of time, you'd come to terms with it on your own," the last part was a bit more bitter than he intended it to be. "Mayhaps I should've listened. Probably explains why you hate me all've a sudden."