“Yes, targeted interference by malicious government agents is catching. Don't come closer or you'll be next,” Simon retorted in a scathing tone that came as much from startled embarrassment as actual irritation. He was actually happier to see Mal than was usual apart from situations where there was imminent shooting involved, they might get on each other's nerves but the captain was one of the handful of people in this or any 'verse that Simon could afford to trust. Mal didn't seem to share Simon's comparative relaxation (not that “relaxed” was a state he reached even on his best days, River scolded him, said he was always worrying over something, worrying at something like a dog with a bone) however, he looked tense and not in the usual way that would have had Kaylee calling him “cranky” and Zoe and Wash smirking. It was an attitude he couldn't place for a moment, try as he might, and it almost distracted him from Mal's muttering about things going smooth. Something about the way he said it though, the need for things to go smooth, finally let Simon put his finger on it. Malcolm Reynolds didn't walk softly, his occasional protests to the contrary, he strode around his ship making a point of being “captain-y” and giving orders, when people made him angry or something worried him he made long (questionably put together) speeches. When Simon heard he was here he'd expected Mal at their quarters the very first day bossing them around, had expected to have to remind him he wasn't captain of anything in particular on earth that was, but this was the first time he'd seen the other man in the flesh. If he didn't know better he'd say Mal was nervous, was hiding. Maybe it's just that he isn't comfortable planet-bound...I suppose I'm more in my element here than he would be.
He didn't even have time to properly enjoy having one up on their fearless captain, however, before the other man was back to making fun of his attempts at cooking and Simon was back to scowling. “No they never did get around to...to...” he gestures vaguely at the mash of ingredients splayed over the counter, read a word at random from the recipe book, “dicing onions at the medacad.” He picked up a pepper and scowled at it. “This was going to be curry. I've read that it keeps for a long time as leftovers and the longer I can go without leaving the complex for groceries the happier River is. She's convinced those...demons...will do whatever it is they do if I leave, even though it's her they seem to be attracted to,” he ran a hand through his hair quite plainly frustrated with all the worlds' evils seeming to have lined up to take a shot at his sister, “Have you had any trouble with them?” he tried, wondering idly if that was the source of Mal's cagey demeanor. Curiosity was a distraction from cooking at least.