Another lay-over planetside, another opportunity to hear Jayne Cobb's robust and inflated tales of sexual conquest. "This girl was screaming so loud, somebody thought she was gettin' murdered and called the bulls;" "The people in the lobby gave me a standing ovation when we came down;" "My hand to God, she gave the money back."

There came a day when the latest overripe account of Jayne's exploits became one account too many for Mal. Something had to be done, or he would be forced to listen to vulgar, exaggerated re-tellings, with their admittedly somewhat amusing off-color pantomimes, forever. Ordering Jayne to stop would be to no avail. If anything, tipping the cards of his vulnerability would only make Mal a captive audience for every future story. No, Mal would need to make Jayne lose his taste for story time.

"Wait, you're comin' too?"

"Sure, I'm coming," Mal said. "I'm a red-blooded man, too. Why wouldn't I come?"

"Cuz in the three years I've worked for you, you ain't never been to a whorehouse." Jayne's eyes shifted from side to side as he scanned his memory thoroughly. "'Ceptin' that one time, but that was for heroics."

Even love's labor lost would not dissuade Mal. He sauntered into the house, right behind Jayne, same confident swagger, same leering eye. The whorehouse was an old hotel; its lobby decked out in the gaudy ostentation that thinks it's quite fine, poor trash putting on airs. The whores lounged on couches or chatted with customers at the bar. Jayne gravitated immediately to his dream girl for the night – buxom figure crammed into a tight dress, tall blonde hair, blood red nails and lipstick. For his evening's entertainment, Mal selected a fit young bird with a more slender figure. Money was exchanged for room keys and they were bound for glory.

"Now listen, Miss, I have a very specific desire..."

The girl blanched a little, her doe eyes wide.

"... And it concerns the man in the next room."

Now the girls eyebrows bumped together in the middle of her forehead. "You're a...?"

"No, no, no, not like that. The thing about him is..."

The headboard banged against the wall, like an overseer pacing his galley slaves, so loud it almost broke Jayne from his own rhythm. Then the screaming started. Ahhs and ohhhs; blessings and curses in two languages; and cries the likes of "More! Harder!" and "Oh my God, you're so big!"

They shared a conspiratorial smile, the avenged captain and the young prostitute. "You still have twenty-five minutes left. Are you sure you don't want to have some fun?"

"Fun? Hmmm. Now, what can a virile man like myself and a healthy young girl do for fun?" Mal snapped his fingers, "I've got it." Mal leaned in close to the girl, so close that she could smell the leather of his long coat. "you any good at pai sho?"

"No," she said solemnly. "I'm a pai sho master."

Mal shone a rakish grin. "We'll just see about that."