Disclaimer: Firefly aint mine.
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She's all silks and grace; I'm just oils and grime. She's as beautiful as the sun - while I wear ripped, dirty overalls.
She is a goddess and I'm a mechanic.
From two opposite ends of the 'verse, plonked on a loveable ship run by a mad-house captain who's in love with the lady already, how will I ever catch her gilded eye?
Fact is, she saw me first.
She might be a goddess, but I'm her ambrosia.