Wash had said "Wait..." and Mal knew, knew in his gut that everything was gone.

It only took looking out through the windscreen of the ship to see he was right. Every single visible building was broken and torn apart, and any bodies visible weren't moving. No way they could have moved, what with most of them having bullet wounds in numerous places ( Read more... )

Everyone had their own little corners of Haven. Kaylee usually entertained the young ones, Jayne always finds a couple guys to trade stories or cigars with.

Mal, at least this time, has ended up on a hillside with Shepherd Book, flask in hand, trading stories of their own.

"...This isn't a palms-up military run, Mal. No reports broadwaved, no ( Read more... )

Mal can draw both his gun and his calligraphy again. The Doc sure knows his trade.

Sitting at the kitchen table after a fun round of blabbing Mal's middle name over the intercom, Mal has his parchments all strewn over the tabletop, the accidental significance of his brushes and his pistol lying on the table side by side not escaping him.

The pen ( Read more... )