The Mersey was warm, and dark, and dingy. The background noise – consisting of a mixture of conversation, people playing pool, and someone playing a guitar in a corner – was comfortably quite, yet loud enough to prevent anyone overhearing a conversation they weren't meant to. Tobacco smoke hung thick in the air, adding haziness to the dark warmth. Mal thanked the brunette behind the bar and strolled unhurriedly back to the table where Zoë and Jayne sat in the centre of the room, carrying three pints of something that apparently had something to do with apples. He set them on the rough, round tabletop just in time to hear Jayne's latest comment.

"Might help if we had some notion of who we're waitin' for." He was still petulant over his lack of weaponry, and he took his drink with enthusiasm, taking a large gulp before almost choking. He banged his glass down on the table, eyes watering. "Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze!" he managed to gasp.

"Guai guai?" Asked Zoë, somewhat amused, as Jayne nearly hiccupped for breath, eyes watering. Partly to help, and partly just for fun, Mal leaned over and slapped him hard across the back. Eventually, after much more cussing, Jayne's breathing returned to normal. Around them, a couple of locals whose attention they'd gained chuckled amongst themselves as returned to their own drinks.

"Apples my well toned ass." Jayne muttered, glaring balefully at the determinedly straight faces of his cohorts.

"Kinda like a knife in the gut, don't you think?" said a voice, not unkindly. Turning, the three saw a tall girl, standing just a couple of feet away. A long braid hung over one shoulder, and blue eyes matched her open smile, glinting in the dim light like her numerous earrings and the pewter flower about her neck.

"Yeah? And how many times have you been stabbed in the gut, girly?" grunted Jayne, looking up as far as her chest.

"Just once," she replied amiably, lifting her loose black vest. Moving his eyes down, Jayne saw a couple bits of shiny in her naval, and a thin scar marring her flat stomach just above the waistband of the black cargo trousers. "I'm Nova." She added, as she nudged a chair up to the table with one scuffed, heavy black boot, before leaning the back of it against the table and sitting astride the chair, left arm relaxing on to the table revealing a small seahorse tattoo.

"Captain Mal Reynolds. This is my first mate Zoë Washburne, and, uh, Jayne. Jayne Cobb."

Zoë nodded a greeting to the newcomer, and Jayne just grunted.

"A Captain? I assume that means you have a ship of some kind?"

Mal nodded, not wanting to give away too much to someone he didn't know, and half looking out for his customer.

"Well," the girl continued, "I know a dude who thinks yours is a heap of ge-se."

Mal looked around sharply, and Zoë shifted in her seat, taking a small sip of her drink. Jayne, still drinking, hadn't noticed, or didn't know. Or quite possibly both.

"Don't like him much though. He makes me feel like I need to bathe."

Yeah, that's Badger. Thought Mal. He decided that the bush had taken enough beating.

"You're who we came to meet?"

"That I am. What kind of ship do you have?"

The question caught Mal a little off guard. This Nova fell just short of creepifying.

"Firefly." He said. "What's the cargo?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"No need to snap, dude." She spent a moment frowning at a chip in the black paint on her nails. "I am. Well, my friends and I are."

Zoë put her drink down, frowning.

"Badger didn't say anything about passengers."

Nova glanced up.

"Badger! That's his name!" She caught their stares. "Um…I mean, that's cos I didn't tell him. We aren't looking for a nice flight. We're looking to get the hell out of here. We'll sleep rough with the cargo, we won't put you out in anyway, and we'll pitch in and help if we're needed."

Mal considered for a moment. He could understand people wanting to get away from this place. Hell, if he lived here, he'd sleep with the gorram cargo to get away too. The part that concerned him was the part about "friends".

"How many friends?"

The girl exhaled slowly.

"Four." She tilted her head backwards slightly. "The blonde with the guitar. Taban." They glanced into the corner where another girl of about the same age sat alone, happily strumming at an old red guitar. Nova's head tilted sideways. "The sisters playing cards. Ebony, and Kaige is wearing glasses." They looked. Two more girls in their late teens. This time, Nova looked past Mal towards the bar. "And the barmaid. Taariq." Mal craned his neck around, spotting the young girl who had served him.

"How much?" Jayne was beginning to slur, which surprised Mal, as the sommbitch could normally drink a fish so far under the table it got dark and fuzzy.

Again, Nova exhaled. This time when she spoke, it was quiet, and they had to lean in to catch it.

"5k. Two and a half now, on faith, and the rest when we break atmo." She looked Mal straight in the eye, almost pleadingly.

"Where'd you get 5k?" Zoë had failed to keep the greed from underlining her voice. Nova turned to look her in the eye instead.

"We stole it." She replied, quite matter of fact.

Fair enough. Mal and Zoë thought, unknowingly simultaneously.

"You'll be looking to leave soon, then?" Mal wanted to know. She nodded.

"Yesterday if possible."

Mal smiled wryly. Aint that always the way.

"Well then we'll leave as soon as you have your stuff together."

She nodded once.

"Groovy."

She reached out, took Mal's untouched pint, and to Jayne's utter horror, downed it in one. She set the empty glass back down, stood up, staggered, muttered something along the lines of:

"Stupid floor, quit movin'! How'm I gonna walk if you spin like that?"

Straightened up, grinned happily at them, and strode off in the direction of the bar.