Summary: Drabble. Pre-series. Sometimes strangers' eyes meet across a crowded room and magic happens. This isn't one of those times. Kind of pre-Jaylee.

Rating: Jayne has a filthy mouth, but that's all here.

Disclaimer: Joss has full custody, but I think they would have more fun at my house.

And if you don't like the title, blame Tom Waits.

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Jayne had been saving up some coin for a bit of trim, but all he could afford right now was piss poor beer. He'd never been one to be choosy, but if a whore would sell herself too cheap, there were a few good reasons. Like rolling you for everything you had. He aimed to avoid that. Live and learn, Ma Cobb always said.

So instead of enjoying a nice piece of tail before a big day as the good Lord intended, he was sitting in this chou ma niao place, nursing along one drink. Trying not to think about the ways tomorrow could go wrong. Track some cargo down and take it, but Marco won't let him in on the details, per usual. Didn't mean a damn thing. Had to take what jobs you could.

There's a commotion at the end of the bar. It doesn't sound like a fight, so he shouldn't be interested, but he cranes his neck to see anyways. A woman. Not a whore. Well, probably not a a whore. Her dress was short enough and she's flirting with every man, but she ain't got the smooth professional way about her, weighing out her attention by how much she thought you had in your wallet.

And she had a swipe of engine grease on her face. He'd seen pros that weren't the cleanest, but grease was a new one even to him. Probably a cheap piece looking for something easy in a go se dive.

A bit of conversation floated over the music and noise. She was talking engines, of all things. Bragging about some old Firefly, eyes shining. Definitely not a whore. They were always business, in word and deed. Even with her strange topic of conversation, she seemed to be holding the men's interest fine.

He shouldn't pay attention. Drink his beer. Get on back before the best bunks were taken.

If he had been thinking about getting something for free, she wasn't his type. For all her sass, she was a bitty thing. Not much more than a corn fed farm girl in a worn out dress. He liked 'em big and flashy.

Still wouldn't hurt to stay a little longer. Keep an eye on her. This was a tough crowd. And she'd seemed to have taken to Roscoe. Her hand rested on his knee at the moment. Not a good idea, little one. Now Roscoe, he wouldn't hit a woman. Probably. But he was cunning and mean. Something Jayne knew all about.

Then he saw a big man in a brown coat stride in, break it up. Bigger than the rest. Not as big as Jayne of course, but big all the same. Brown coat man started to yell at her. It didn't seem right somehow. Little prairie girl started waving her hands around and explaining things. Didn't seem too scared.

What was going on here? Brown coat wasn't her pimp. Too young to be her Pa. Maybe a brother? Might be her regular man, but he wasn't doing too good a job if she was looking for something here. He wasn't touching her, but it was getting threatening-like.

Jayne could sidle over there and glare. It worked sometimes. If it didn't, hell it had been a while since he had gotten to punch a man. Punch hard anyways. Prairie girl would be so grateful, she'd throw her arms around him. They'd leave fussy man in the dust. Good way to get his tension released. She wasn't his regular type for recreational use, but sometimes a man was willing to settle.

Mind made up, he slammed down the bottle of beer. Started to push his way through. But when he made his way to the other end of the bar, they were gone. No sign of them.

Just as well. Time to turn in. Getting something for free was the most expensive way in the end.