...and look into the small huddled groups, or start talking to those who approached, swaying hopefully close, looking for an invitation but shambling off with shoulders slumped when it didn't come. But Simon didn't. Instead he waited, eyes narrowed as stood still, gaze intense as he moved it from person to person, discarding them for a multitude of reasons: too young, too ill, looked too much like Father...

...towards the cargo hold. Seven hours earlier This is more than flirting, it’s…Wash isn’t sure but he’s positive there’s a word for it somewhere. All thoughts of it flee from his mind though when Simon lightly squeezes his knee in a manner less proper than Wash would have expected from him. It sends a thrill through him, makes him wonder what’s going on as Mal refills his glass laughing loudly...