“Mmhm.” Cassian made an agreeing noise and tilted his glass, examining the way the different liquids blurred into each other like a bloodied sunrise, before taking another sip of the cocktail.

Hers was a callous response, but that meant it was the exact same calculation he’d done for himself at the time. Weighing risks versus benefits, and his chances of getting out of there alive if he played along with the shithead rebels versus not. It was one of the things he appreciated about Inara: she wasn’t some dewy-eyed innocent, shocked and aghast at the realities of the life they had to lead in this galaxy. She’d seen enough ugly things herself. Knew how people worked.

“That’s about what I figured, too. So I kept refusing. Knew my utility would be gone as soon as I taught them how to fly. So I bided my time and turned them further against each other, until they were fully distracted and I could slip away in the scuffle.”