I didn't intend these to be a part of a coherent story but since they're falling that way, consider this one I wrote earlier on to take place anytime before chapter three "Unbound". For a "minor character drabble" challenge.
"Honey," the man said, putting one arm around her waist as she stood in front of the largest picture in the gallery. It wasn't just an endearment. Honey Goshawk was her latest identity.
"Colin," she purred, her upper class but colony specific accent (his mother's accent, she'd done her research) still a little odd on her tongue. "This painting, here, I do declare I am in love with it."
"Then you shall have it," Colin promised, leaning over and kissing her hair – black tresses that he was unaware was a very good wig.
Saffron smiled and leaned into his chest. "You are too good to me."
Then she froze – Reynolds! No, she thought as the man turned. Same height and build, similar hair colour but not Reynolds. She calmed herself, still feeling her heart racing. Colin had caught her momentary panic.
"Honey?" he asked, concerned.
She fanned herself exaggeratedly. "I'm fine, my darling. Just – thought I saw someone I knew."
He nodded. "Let me get you a drink," he offered.
What would Reynolds call her if he saw her? Yo-Saf-Bridge-y? Ho-Yo-Saf-Bridge? More importantly, why couldn't she get him out of her mind? Why did she see him lurking in shadows, and in her dreams? No mark had ever gotten to her the way he had.
Saffron accepted the proffered champagne and downed it in one go, despite Colin's look of surprise and mild disapproval.
If she ever saw Malcolm Reynolds again she'd shoot him. He'd ruined her already damaged life.