Inara stared at herself in the mirror, and her hand, reaching for the small tin of foundation powder, stayed. No-one ever saw her without makeup, without the barrier of paint between her and them, covering the many imperfections that the instructors at the Training House had shown her.
The very small scar on her outer cheekbone where one of her classmates had been careless with the foil during a fencing lesson, the less-than-perfect skin tone across her jaw, the unevenness of her eyebrows … all of these and more she had taken care every morning to cover, to conceal, to correct.
And yet there he was, saying he wanted to meet the real woman, the person not the Companion. If there was such a person.
Even Kaylee got by on just a swipe of lipstick, augmented by a healthy dose of engine grease. Of course, she did put more on when she was being taken out, but here, at home, she didn't need to …
Inara shook her head, and eyes unrimmed with kohl stared back at her.
-x-
Mal lifted his head from the small sink and picked up the shaving brush. Rubbing it briskly into the soap he applied the lather to his chin, whistling tunelessly, his mind concerned with the day's fortunes. Satisfied that his emerging bristles were sufficiently covered, he set the brush back down and picked up his cut throat razor.
He paused, his eyes meeting those of his reflection, and he smiled slightly. He'd always been clean-shaven … maybe it was time for a change.
Maybe he should grow a beard.
He recalled tales from Earth-that-was which told of ship's captains plying their trade on the oceans being partial to thick full facial hair, and the most they had to do every morning was take the scissors to it, trim it neatly.
His reflection grinned. Maybe not. For a week now he and Inara had been on good terms, and he knew she'd been doing her damnedest to not flirt, to not bat her eyelashes coquettishly and use her wiles. She'd even gone so far as to throw a bread roll at Jayne the evening before when he'd told a particularly rude story at dinner, and laughed when he threw it back.
No. No beard. Not unless she said she liked them.
He began to shave.
-x-
"You think they're getting closer?" Kaylee asked, stirring the porridge.
"Much closer and they'll be humping on the breakfast table," Jayne grunted, reaching past her for a bowl.
"Jayne!"
"Come on, it's fine already. And I'm starved. Had me a good night last night." He grinned at her and she felt her skin warm.
"Miss Lulubelle counting your coin as we speak?" Simon interjected.
"Worth every penny," the big man asserted, dumping a huge spoonful of oatmeal into his bowl and grabbing a spoon. He turned to go to his seat but the doctor's sister was in front of him, two spoons of her own in her hands.
"Charging to 300," she said softly. "Clear." She pressed the spoons against his chest.
He jerked slightly. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.
"Jayne's heart needs restarting," the young psychic murmured.
"Mei-mei, drop those in the sink," Simon advised. "No-one will want to use them now."
River didn't answer, but lifted one of the spoons to her mouth. Keeping her eyes on Jayne's face, she slid it between her lips, the top of her tongue just showing where she was licking the metal.
Jayne stared, an uncomfortableness at the back of his mind as if she was running barefoot through this thoughts again, and he pushed past her, going to sit at the table.
"Um, Jayne?" Kaylee said hesitantly.
"What? You gonna creep me out too?"
"No. Well, maybe. It's just … that's Wash's seat. Ain't nobody sat in that since … well, since then."
Jayne looked as if he was about to get back up, but just reached across the table for the sweetener. "All just chairs, little Kaylee. Ain't no ghosts here."
"Yeah, but Zoe -"
"Won't mind." The woman herself stepped down into the kitchen area. "Jayne's right."
"I am?"
"It's all just chairs."
Everyone stared.
Mal took that moment to step down behind her. "Everything okay?" he asked, feeling the dissipation of a slight atmosphere.
"Peachy, Cap," Kaylee said brightly. "Breakfast?"
"I believe that's what I'm here for." He watched her fill a bowl for him then hand it over. "Thank you, Kaylee."
"You're welcome. And … Cap?"
"What?"
In response the young woman pointed to a spot on her own face, on her left cheek. Mal felt his, found the tiny piece of toilet paper where he'd cut himself. "Thanks," he said, peeling it from his skin and rolling it into a little ball. "Mind on other things."
"Inara?" she asked mischievously.
"You just keep to your own love life, Kaylee," he advised, turning to the table, and almost walked into Inara. He hadn't heard her come up behind him.
"Do we have a love life?" she asked, her eyes glowing.
"'Nara …" He stared. Her plainest clothes. No make-up. And her skin … so beautiful, so soft, so … real. "Is this you?" he asked, his voice only for her.
"I'm trying to find out," she admitted. She glanced down at her dress, smoothing it flat. "I'm not … I'm not sure there is a real me anymore."
He put his fingers under her perfect chin and lifted her face so he could look into her eyes, so much softer and more delicate without the aid of cosmetics. "Then do I get to choose?"
"Maybe." She smiled. "No. I will."
He grinned back. "That's better. Don't let me get away with too much."
"I won't."
"Although I kinda like this. You look … nice."
The way his blue eyes were twinkling, she knew this was the greatest compliment he had ever paid her, and she felt the blush rise up her skin.
Hell, never knew she blushed like that, Mal thought to himself.
"Just don't expect me to go out looking like this," she said, breaking eye contact as if she could read his thoughts as well as River.
He watched her round the end of the counter, smile at Kaylee, then dish herself up a bowl of oatmeal. Certainly did look to be an interesting day.