"What, you mean to tell me people ain't taken in by your shiny personality?" It's probably... definitely not the kindness thing to go saying after someone spills those kind of details on themselves, not that Mal has any real reason to believe him seeing as he's rather sure the man's not so much as told him a single piece of truth yet. Besides that, though, well if he were looking for pity they're gonna be waiting around a long time, like right up until Serenity can locate him and Kaylee's around; that's probably his best bet if it's sympathy he's trying for because he's unlikely to get a drop of it from Mal.
He will say that if the man ain't just straight up lying, well, it ain't least don't sound like he had been born on a core-planet, not any of the good sectors anyway. Glassglow's no planet or moon or even major port, least not one Mal's heard of, so it's difficult to go guessing at what system he might be from. Well, still definitely not the true border worlds that much is a certainty. Hell, most of 'em don't have any real factories to speak of for one thing, and those folks would count themselves lucky if they were able to eek out even a single job so the hardship of him having work fails to leave much of an impression on Mal. Sure, it's good to know he isn't one of them folks whose just sat 'round living off what money his family name carries and having never worked in his life, but far as Mal concerns work is something one is often lucky to have. If he were any sort of decent person he'd be thankful for as much and carry it as a point of pride while showing a little bit of gratitude while he's at it.
Strikes him that a ship that can hold and requires a crew of eighty men, no matter how old and worn it might be (Mal actually bristles some when the man's saying as much since he certainly makes it sound like a terrible misfortune had been done to him, as though a good, trusty old ship is a hardship when from what Mal's seen a ship that's been flying for so long and been well loved the and cared for has proven itself a hundred times more than some shiny new model where you never do know what sort of problems could arise) well, it's got to be some kind of company ship, the kind where they pay you steady wages and there's always employment which means there's always fuel and food and the other things man needs in order to go on living and don't this fellow know how many folks out there have to go without those things? Hell, possible even it had even been a government ship, and wouldn't that just make his gorram day if this man worked directly for the alliance. Well, of course he would. Look at hm. Still, would have meant that regardless of if everyone on board hate him to the very core - and gee, really is hard to imagine why THAT might be, Mal thinks to himself with a role of his eyes - meant he would have never been in danger of starving to death or finding himself without shelter or floating in the black with no energy cells left, running on empty and with nothing left but prayer long after you've stopped believing in those sorts of fairy tales.
And for some strange reason, Mal decides it best to actually go and tell him all of this. Just starts ranting on 'bout how he should be damn well grateful since, "You ever been outside the core? I mean truly outside, to the edge of civilized planets?" Pretty clear from the way Mal spins the word civilized that he don't care for the whole concept but, well, don't know how else to put it this strange would understand. "You ever been out to those chunks of rock that are made of mostly dust and heat? Met the folks who have tried settling out there? Because it's a hell of a life, let me tell you, I've heard of entire settlements just slowly dying off one by one not six months after they land. Can you imagine how desperate you'd have to be to crawl into some junkers excuse for a ship just to travel to some rock you ain't never laid eyes on so you can try to dig out a living in the dirt? Folks like that, you think they'd even leave in the first place if they had much of a choice in the matter?"
Mal could do a pretty good impression of a father shaming a child when he had to, though usually he left such things to the good Shepard who is a mite more practiced at it than Mal, but in this case seems the boy needs a good talking to. Maybe it will straighten out his head some. "Plenty of us out there, we're grateful to find what work we can get. Don't matter much if it's at a factory or on a ship or chiseling your way through layers of rock and dirt trying to force food to grow where there ain't no soil. You do what you have to to stay alive, that's the they. Most people in this 'verse, they're just trying their damnest to make it through to tomorrow without starving, you don't think they'd be plenty glad to take up work on a ship even if it meant suffering the horrible fate of not feeling popular?" Mal snorts in derision, making his opinion on the matter pretty clear. Not that his words weren't doing a find job at just as much already.
"Never could stand folks who have more good fortune than they even realize and yet seem to only find any enjoyment in being able to whine about it," Mal adds the last part like he's not even speaking with the man anymore. Actually turns so he's saying it to the stallion for the most part, though it's pretty damn clear who the comment is meant for.
"Not that I ain't plenty happy for you and all, finding out you're not just some rich brat living off your family name." It really ain't much in the way of a compliment, but then it's not really meant to be much of one even if Mal did honestly mean it to a certain extent.
"Hope you didn't come all the way out here looking for some pity." Mal reaches out to scratch behind the old bronco's ear, a tick he had learned working back at his ma's ranch and that most of the horses there always liked well enough, and it seems even this wild fellow enjoys a good bit of attention. More than that Mal finds the connection to bring a strange sense of calm. At least he's no longer about to start yelling again, his voice going back to it's normal, nearly disinterested canter. "Better chance finding your way out of these woods than getting any from me. Xièzuì, just, well... Met my fair share of folks with far worse sob stories to share. Only so much sympathy a man has to share, and I'm afraid you missed the window on that one son, by a good long stretch."
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He will say that if the man ain't just straight up lying, well, it ain't least don't sound like he had been born on a core-planet, not any of the good sectors anyway. Glassglow's no planet or moon or even major port, least not one Mal's heard of, so it's difficult to go guessing at what system he might be from. Well, still definitely not the true border worlds that much is a certainty. Hell, most of 'em don't have any real factories to speak of for one thing, and those folks would count themselves lucky if they were able to eek out even a single job so the hardship of him having work fails to leave much of an impression on Mal. Sure, it's good to know he isn't one of them folks whose just sat 'round living off what money his family name carries and having never worked in his life, but far as Mal concerns work is something one is often lucky to have. If he were any sort of decent person he'd be thankful for as much and carry it as a point of pride while showing a little bit of gratitude while he's at it.
Strikes him that a ship that can hold and requires a crew of eighty men, no matter how old and worn it might be (Mal actually bristles some when the man's saying as much since he certainly makes it sound like a terrible misfortune had been done to him, as though a good, trusty old ship is a hardship when from what Mal's seen a ship that's been flying for so long and been well loved the and cared for has proven itself a hundred times more than some shiny new model where you never do know what sort of problems could arise) well, it's got to be some kind of company ship, the kind where they pay you steady wages and there's always employment which means there's always fuel and food and the other things man needs in order to go on living and don't this fellow know how many folks out there have to go without those things? Hell, possible even it had even been a government ship, and wouldn't that just make his gorram day if this man worked directly for the alliance. Well, of course he would. Look at hm. Still, would have meant that regardless of if everyone on board hate him to the very core - and gee, really is hard to imagine why THAT might be, Mal thinks to himself with a role of his eyes - meant he would have never been in danger of starving to death or finding himself without shelter or floating in the black with no energy cells left, running on empty and with nothing left but prayer long after you've stopped believing in those sorts of fairy tales.
And for some strange reason, Mal decides it best to actually go and tell him all of this. Just starts ranting on 'bout how he should be damn well grateful since, "You ever been outside the core? I mean truly outside, to the edge of civilized planets?" Pretty clear from the way Mal spins the word civilized that he don't care for the whole concept but, well, don't know how else to put it this strange would understand. "You ever been out to those chunks of rock that are made of mostly dust and heat? Met the folks who have tried settling out there? Because it's a hell of a life, let me tell you, I've heard of entire settlements just slowly dying off one by one not six months after they land. Can you imagine how desperate you'd have to be to crawl into some junkers excuse for a ship just to travel to some rock you ain't never laid eyes on so you can try to dig out a living in the dirt? Folks like that, you think they'd even leave in the first place if they had much of a choice in the matter?"
Mal could do a pretty good impression of a father shaming a child when he had to, though usually he left such things to the good Shepard who is a mite more practiced at it than Mal, but in this case seems the boy needs a good talking to. Maybe it will straighten out his head some. "Plenty of us out there, we're grateful to find what work we can get. Don't matter much if it's at a factory or on a ship or chiseling your way through layers of rock and dirt trying to force food to grow where there ain't no soil. You do what you have to to stay alive, that's the they. Most people in this 'verse, they're just trying their damnest to make it through to tomorrow without starving, you don't think they'd be plenty glad to take up work on a ship even if it meant suffering the horrible fate of not feeling popular?" Mal snorts in derision, making his opinion on the matter pretty clear. Not that his words weren't doing a find job at just as much already.
"Never could stand folks who have more good fortune than they even realize and yet seem to only find any enjoyment in being able to whine about it," Mal adds the last part like he's not even speaking with the man anymore. Actually turns so he's saying it to the stallion for the most part, though it's pretty damn clear who the comment is meant for.
"Not that I ain't plenty happy for you and all, finding out you're not just some rich brat living off your family name." It really ain't much in the way of a compliment, but then it's not really meant to be much of one even if Mal did honestly mean it to a certain extent.
"Hope you didn't come all the way out here looking for some pity." Mal reaches out to scratch behind the old bronco's ear, a tick he had learned working back at his ma's ranch and that most of the horses there always liked well enough, and it seems even this wild fellow enjoys a good bit of attention. More than that Mal finds the connection to bring a strange sense of calm. At least he's no longer about to start yelling again, his voice going back to it's normal, nearly disinterested canter. "Better chance finding your way out of these woods than getting any from me. Xièzuì, just, well... Met my fair share of folks with far worse sob stories to share. Only so much sympathy a man has to share, and I'm afraid you missed the window on that one son, by a good long stretch."