. . . “Ooo, can we get a cake this time? A real one? I mean, after all, the last one we had ended up a fiery blob of chocolate protein.” Wash’s jittery excitement seems to match the vibrational levels of his turquoise and yellow palm-print shirt. “And candles? Those were some real shiny can–”

“Ta ma de.” Mal’s tin cup hits the dining table with a forcible clatter. “What has got into you people? There ain’t gonna be no gorram cake, and the cake we’re not having sure as hell ain’t gonna have no gorram candles! Dong ma?”

“But, Captain –”

“Don’t you be getting into this none, Kaylee. I’m getting enough grief from Mr. Shiny Candles over there.”

Kaylee’s expression crumbles, and Wash looks pointedly at Zoe, who’s leaning against the hatch behind Mal’s chair.

“Sir.”

“Yes.” As Mal turns to face Zoe, Wash mouths, “Call him sir again,” while making encouraging hand motions.

“Sir, as Mrs. Shiny Candles, I feel it is my duty to remind you that it would be the right thing to do.”

“Zoe, this is why I didn’t want you marrying him in the first place. I don’t got a first mate and a pilot no more – I got an entity.”

“Sir, with all due respect …” She pauses, temporarily distracted by a grinning Wash waving a hand with three raised fingers. “With all due respect, I’m suggesting it for the good of the ship. Treating good folks decent-like pays off in the end. Sark did us a good turn taking in the Sheppard like that.”

“She’s right, Captain. Them as did right by us, we do right by them. It’s only proper.” When Mal doesn’t answer immediately, Kaylee turns to Simon, smiling brightly. “Ain’t that right, Simon – it’s proper?”

Raising both hands, Simon waves a surrendering retreat while backing away into the galley.

The hopeful look on Kaylee’s face fades into resignation, and she looks down at hands now clutched together on the tabletop.

“Being all reciprocal-like may be proper, but it ain’t practical. We don’t got nothing to make no real cake with, and we’re not stopping nowhere anytime soon.”

“Actually, Captain.”

“Yes, Wash.” A tone of resignation creeps into his voice.

“A slight alteration now and we could hit Boros in three days. It would only add a day, maybe two, to our trip.”

Running a hand through his hair, Mal sighs.

“And,” Simon emerges, “it would be wise to stock up on plasma and basic antibiotics again as soon as possible. Our rather precipitous leave from Santo has once again left us sadly depleted.”

Kaylee beams first at him and than at Mal. “See, Captain. We do a quick stop at Boros, and we got ourselves a party!”

“What’s this about a party?” Jayne’s strident voice precedes him as he enters and plops down into a seat. “Hell, we could do with a party ‘round here.” He grabs a half-eaten protein roll from Kaylee’s plate and thrusts it into his mouth.

“Wo de ma. We was just talking about a cake, and now we’ve got us a party!”

“Sir, I really think it’s for the best.”

“Come on, Captain, there’d be shiny candles!”

Mal looks around at his crew. “How about you, River, you got anything to say on this?”

Her head pokes out from underneath the table. “If you don’t celebrate the un-birthdays, you must, therefore, celebrate the birthday.” She disappears again.

“All right. All right, gorram it. We’ll stop at Boros and get supplies. You get it together, Kaylee, and when we hit Haven, we’ll have us a party.”

“I’ll help,” Wash calls out, giving Zoe an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Kaylee goes over to Mal and kisses his cheek. “That’s my Captain.” . . . Dong ma? – understand? Ta ma de – damn it, s**t Wo de ma – mother of God . . .