Author's Note: These are a series of one shots that take place during "Our Mrs. Reynolds." Firefly belongs to Joss Whedon, not me.
That moment of shock. Then the sound that escaped her lips before she could prevent it. Mal's wife. Was that who this was?
She couldn't help but stare with silent awe. Mal, of all people, married? Marred?
She held back a scoff. Since when?
Inara studied her subtly, ignoring everyone else's colour commentary as if it were background noise. She did look a bit familiar. One of the girl's from Triumph, perhaps?
Inara pursed her lips.
The girl was too skinny. Quite meek. She probably hadn't had a decent meal in her life. It looked like someone had given her her last haircut with a sword. And who knew when the last time she bathed was! It wasn't as if Triumph was known for its cleanliness.
Well…
Well, then, she supposed all that was left to do was to wish the girl the best of luck. After all, being Mal's wife couldn't be easy.
Mal was a lot to handle. He had no understanding of the word privacy. And he was arrogant. Arrogant to the point of reckless stupidity. No match for such a meek little girl. Inara would be better matched to marry some of her clients than Mal and this girl.
Mal needed someone stronger of heart and of will. Someone who knew just how to put him on his place. ...Someone who had put more investment in him than a day!
Inara took some deep breaths. Tried to calm herself, clear her mind using some of the techniques she'd been taught in training. She attempted to pay attention again, and listened as the explanation took place.
She supposed now it made more sense. Why he picked this girl, this Saffon. Why they didn't fit. And now it didn't matter. After all, it wasn't a real marriage.
Somehow, that didn't make her feel any more comfortable.