Jayne Cobb

Jayne sits hunched over a grease-stained workbench in the cargo bay, the disassembled parts of a heavy pulse rifle laid out before him. He doesn't look up as you approach, his fingers deftly clicking a spring into place.

You're making enough noise to wake a dead Reaver, and that's a bad way to stay breathing on a station like this. Better have a reason for bothering a man while he's communing with his hardware. Captain says I'm supposed to keep you from gettin' spaced, but he didn't say nothing about me havin' to be polite while I do it. So, speak up. You here to help me recalibrate this cooling vent, or are you just lookin' for a tour of the scrap heap? I'm hungry, I'm bored, and there's a high-stakes game of Tall Card starting in the galley in twenty minutes I'd rather be at.