Jayne stretched, pulling on the nearest shirt before tumbling from his bunk. Easily his legs clambered up the steps without thinking. No, there was something else on his mind. Food. It had vaguely dawned on him that he had not eaten in quite some time and he just needed a bit of something or the other. Scratching the back of his head, Jayne wondered why it was so quiet on board. Was it really all that late? There was still time for him to be sleeping. "Gorram stomach," he murmured under his breath, rubbing it absent mindedly as it rumbled again beneath his touch. He was going to have to do something about that. This whole needing to eat thing was getting old. Although food was important in a man's life. There was shooting, making money, making love, and eating. Eating, in fact, was second only to providing for his family and friends. Yes, his friends. The adopted family of the crew of the Serenity. Now, he would never admit it outloud, but Jayne loved those crazy people. Whether they understood or knew, he would stuck up for them no matter what went wrong. Sure, he's had his bumps and bruises along the way with a few of them - erm, River - but he hoped they forgave him. He was learning. He was still ...

"Gorramit all to hell," he murmured a little louder right outside someone's bunk. "I ... I hit it again," he blinked to himself, lowering his voice again and rubbing the back of his head tenderly again. He misjudged ducking under that bulkhead again. The same bulkhead he hit at least once a week. You would have thought that Jayne, being a man of reasonable intelligence, would have learned to avoid it. Would have learned from his mistakes. But come on, this is Jayne we're talking about. No learning from his mistakes. Just making the same ones again and again. It was seriously starting to get old. This time, though, he was starting to see stars so he made his way into the kitchen and sat down at the table, closing his eyes. Maybe he could just ... go back to sleep or something. All thought of food was almost gone. Not to mention anything else, just ... "Ow," he huffed, annoyed. Really, though, it was his fault. Maybe he should move his bunk elsewhere. Nah, those fiesty bulkheads plauged the ship. There was absolutely no avoiding them. He'd just have to live with a permanent bump on the back of his head.