“Y’think Mal’ll let us stay’n’watch th’game after we drop the cargo?”
Simon blinked, looking up from the syringe he had just slid into the crook Jayne’s arm. “You’re talking to me?” he asked, surprised.
Jayne glanced around the empty infirmary, then fixed his gazed on Simon, pointedly.
Flustered, Simon returned his attention to the needle in Jayne’s arm, pulling it out now that the inoculation serum had been injected into his vein. He pressed a small cotton ball into the wound. “Put pressure on that for a few seconds,” he stated before returning to the question. “The captain hasn’t ever expressed any interest in sports before. He doesn’t seem to be the type to enjoy something like baseball.”
Jayne scoffed, placing his fingers into the cotton ball. “Mal’s a man. ‘Course he likes baseball.”
Simon scrutinized Jayne. “I’m not sure I follow your logic, if there was any.” He moved away from Jayne, depositing the tip of the syringe in the waste. “Besides,” he added with a shrug, “I don’t like baseball.”
Jayne grunted. “Yeah, and you ain’t hardly a man.”
Simon spun around at that and was met with Jayne’s confrontational stare. He drew himself up as best he could. “I’m . . . I’m more of a man than you can . . . ever hope to be!” he sputtered.
Jayne assessed his needle wound, before throwing the cotton ball away. “Yeah, well, just ‘cause you got them manparts don’t make you one all automatic-like.”
“I didn’t realize one had to be indoctrinated into manhood,” Simon retorted. “I suppose sleeping with whores and totting big guns around is the prerequisite?”
It was clear from the expression on Jayne’s face that half of Simon’s vocabulary had been lost on him. He latched on to what he had understood. “Sleepin’ with whores ain’t gonna do it, neither.”
“This is ridiculous,” Simon protested. “I suppose watching baseball will cure me of my manlessness?”
Jayne’s lips curved into a sly grin. “Nah, but playin’ it might.”
“That’s absurd,” Simon said. “I wouldn’t even know where—” but he trailed off.
Jayne nodded. “Yeah, ‘cause you ain’t a man. We ought t’play ball, you’n’me.”
“You must be joking.” Jayne’s grin grew broader. “What, you afraid’f gettin’ your hands on my balls?”
Simon waited for Jayne to realize the horrible double-entendre he made and stumble over himself trying to deny that he had meant anything else. It took only a few seconds to register that Jayne’s smile was leeringly lecherous; he knew exactly what he’d said. Simon turned away from him and immediately knocked over a metal tray full of syringes he had prepared to inoculate the rest of the crew with.
Jayne chuckled at Simon’s misfortune. “Thought so. Come find me when you’re up for some real man-games.”