Coming out of his cabin for a second try at his second day with the new crew, Jayne was relieved to find just Wash and Zoë in the galley. The first mate was fixing her husband up with a mug of fresh coffee and a bowl of porridge to take to the cockpit so he could have his breakfast while he monitored the planetary approach and made the landing on Laredo.

Their quiet conversation stopped abruptly when he appeared at the top of the stairs, and Jayne guessed that they had been discussing the events of that morning. He knew for sure they had been when Wash's amused twinkle turned to a frown as he looked Jayne up and down before giving his wife one last peck on the cheek and turning to go back to his post.

Zoë poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Jayne, along with a second bowl of porridge like the one she had just given to Wash. He took the proffered items along with a spoon and sat down at the table, fully expecting Zoë to leave him to his meal. Seemed he was going to be the ship's pariah. For a while, anyway.

Instead, she poured a mug for herself and sat opposite him, carefully considering what she was going to say before opening her mouth.

"He's a good man, you know, the captain."

Jayne grunted a bit between spoonfuls.

"He's just tryin' to protect what's ours – what's his," she explained in that level, soothing voice of hers.

Jayne relaxed his shoulders. Seemed as though, even if Zoë wasn't exactly on his side, she was willing to mediate.

"And he thinks I'm a threat, is that it?" he asked her.

"Appears so," she replied. After pausing for a couple of heartbeats, she continued. "Are you?"

Now, this kind of palaver Jayne could understand. Someone talking at him direct.

"I'm just here to do my job," he said around a mouthful of porridge.

"Now, I don't mean to be nosy," Zoë observed with a twinkle in her eye and a quirk to her mouth, "but to my recollection, part of your job ain't servicin' the womenfolk on this ship."

Jayne stopped eating for a moment and looked at the woman across from him. He sighed. How could he tell her what had really happened without revealing himself, his plans, his dreams?

"Let's just say I figgered it'd be a side benefit," he finally stated.

"Uh-huh," Zoë said in a way that clearly meant I don't believe you but I'm letting you get away with it this time.

Jayne squirmed in his chair a bit and frowned. "Why'd Mal get so upset?" he asked. "Ain't like Kaylee is kin." A sudden realization struck him. "She ain't kin, is she?"

Zoë smiled and took a sip of her coffee before answering. "None of us are blood relations," she said, "but we're all family on this boat. You can understand that, can't you, Jayne?"

"I think so," Jayne replied, dubiously. "You and the captain, you fought with the Independents, right?"

"Sure did," Zoë answered.

"So I get why you and him's so close and all even if you're married to some other feller," Jayne said. "But a man that pertecs other people like that, even if they don't want his pertection, well, why is he so afraid of losing you all?"

Zoë sat back at this piercing observation and coolly regarded the man sitting across from her. Mal had been right in taking him on. Now if only Mal could see that.

"This ship, name of Serenity?" she said.

"Yep, like the Battle of Serenity Valley, right?"

"The same. Mal lost almost everything he had there. Doesn't want to go through it again. And if you tell him I told you that, I'll rip off your arm and use the ragged end to dust the furniture."

Jayne grinned and Zoë smiled back, a new understanding flowing between them.

"Tell him what?" he joked, digging into his porridge again.

"Good, glad we're straight on that one," Zoë said as she stood and turned back to the galley. "Now, there're two fresh eggs left over from yesterday and I can fry 'em up for you with some leftover bread, if you want."

Jayne knew that this was not only a peace offering but also Zoë's way of telling him that she didn't agree with what Mal had done even if nobody was ever going to hear her say it, and he nodded eagerly as he spooned the last mouthful of porridge out of the bowl. "I'd be obliged," he said.

"And if you tell Wash I cooked extra for you, you'll lose the other arm," Zoë deadpanned as she pulled a frying pan down from its hook on the wall.

After Wash had completed a feather-light landing, Mal and Zoë and Jayne – loaded up with his guns and knives this time – set off in the mule to negotiate the transfer of goods and payment for their work. They pulled into the wagon yard behind the town's main square, as arranged, and were greeted by an older man with a greedy glint in his eye. There were no gunhands visible, but that didn't mean they weren't there, and Jayne darted his eyes around the ground level and along the rooftops before taking up a position flanking Mal, just slightly behind and to his right, while Zoë took up the left-hand position.

The contact's demeanor changed as he sized up the giant standing there, one hand on a rather large revolver at his hip and a look on his face as though he'd like nothing better than to kill somebody just for fun. The man became so scared his knees were visibly shaking by the time he handed over the full amount agreed to, which was twice what he had intended to pay. He even threw in a piece of paper with information about a new job contact before he ran out of the square, leaving the three smugglers on their own.

"Well, Jayne," said Mal, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, "I guess you get to unload again. Only Zoë and I'll help this time. No use hanging around longer than we have to."

The three of them made quick work of the unloading and they were soon seated on the mule and on their way back to Serenity. As they pulled around the corner onto the main street, Jayne called out, "Hold up a minute!"

Mal slowed the mule down and the big man hopped out, calling back over his shoulder, "I'll be right back."

He went into a store with a sign that read Pritchard's Deluxe Emporium: Fine Toiletries and Lady's Sundries, the valiant attempt at core elegance completely ruined by a spelling mistake. But instead of laughing, it only caused Mal to scowl at Zoë.

"What the hell is he doin' goin' into a store like that?" he asked, then answered his own question. "I wager he's plannin' on gettin' some frippery for Kaylee and leadin' her all astray again."

Zoë turned to face her captain with a look he saw so rarely that he tended to pay close attention when it did appear.

"Sir," she said. That was all she said.

"Uh, yeah, Zoë?"

"Sir, I think you're handling this all wrong. Just leave the man alone for a while. We need him. You saw how that meet just went. Old coot in there near pissed himself when he saw Jayne and nary a bullet fired. I call that smooth. Don't you call that smooth, sir?"

"Yes, Zoë, I surely do call that smooth," Mal sighed, and he jiggled the heavy bag of coins on the seat beside him. "It was pretty funny too, him runnin' away like a scared jackrabbit at the end."

When Jayne came back out, a brown paper package tucked under his arm, Mal and Zoë were smiling and laughing, and the three of them spent the rest of the short trip back to the ship discussing whether they thought the man had made it to the head in time.

It was Mal's turn to make the supper and he had it all prepared and laid out as everyone filed in to eat. Everyone except Jayne. Not standing on ceremony, they sat down and began serving themselves. Inara was the first to notice.

"Do you smell something?" she asked, her nose wrinkling prettily.

"Now that you mention it, I do," Mal said, turning around to face the doorway to the crew quarters. "Smells a bit like a brothel."

"Or like a florist's shop vomited," observed Wash, pinching his nostrils together and pushing his plate away from himself.

Just then, Jayne emerged from his cabin and walked into the room, taking his place at the table and scooping protein mush onto his plate. It slowly dawned on the rest of the people around the table that the sickly sweet smell was coming from him.

Jayne didn't appear to realize that anything out of the ordinary was happening, and he dug into the food with his usual relish. When Wash opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, Zoë glared at him until he closed it again.

After they had gotten somewhat used to the smell and begun to eat, the conversation around the table picked up as usual, but Jayne didn't participate. He could feel Kaylee's eyes on him through most of it, but he figured if he didn't say anything then neither would she, so he was safe for the moment.

When they had finished eating and cleared up, Mal sat down and spilled the sack of money onto the table, writing down amounts on a piece of paper and dividing it up into six piles. Since Inara was more or less a paying passenger and not part of the crime there was no pile of money for her, but they each got their rightful share with one left over for Serenity, and by the end of the little ritual, Mal looked like a proud papa handing out the kids' weekly allowance.

"Mal?" Jayne asked. "How long we stayin' here?"

"Well, we've got that new job to look into. I'd say at least until tomorrow noon depending on how that plays out."

"Do I gotta stay on the ship?" Jayne asked, eyebrows raised. "Only I wanted ta go to the whorehouse and get a bath and a woman and such. That's why I got the soap in that store today. Tried it out just afore supper. Smells nice, doncha think?"

Mal wasn't sure whether he was more amazed by this flow of words from their new hired gun or by the topic that had been raised. All the captain said in reply was, "Just be back before noon in case we're goin'. Me and Zoë can handle the new business."

"Thanks, Mal," Jayne replied, and looked at the floor when the others turned their heads at Kaylee's loud sob.

The mechanic stalked up to him, arms stiff at her sides, hands curled into fists, and screamed out, "I hate you, Jayne Cobb!" before whirling around to run in the direction of the crew quarters.

Jayne kept his face pointed downwards so the others couldn't see the sadness there, and when he looked up again, he was pretty sure they wouldn't be able to tell how much Kaylee's outburst had hurt him and what a strain it was on him to hurt her. He exited the mess to scowls all around, but since he had expected this type of reaction, he barely felt it.

He left the ship carrying his new soap and walked back to the town, easily locating the whorehouse by the loud piano music and shouts and sounds of breaking glass coming from inside. He went in and talked to the madame, arranging a bath of fresh hot water – 2 credits extra for fresh, 3 for hot – and the services of a tall blonde with a sour-looking face, flat chest and bony hips. Since he was trying hard to avoid any of the available women who looked even remotely like Kaylee, he ended up choosing one that was nowhere near his usual tastes. Oh, well, he thought as he followed her up the stairs, I can always use the sleep.