UnBETAed so if you find any errors, they are solely mine.
I don't own a thing, unfortunately. I'd love to own a piece of Joss Whedon's brain and imagination, but I don't - so I play with his shiny toys from afar, giving them a little bit more to say after the series ended. (And why oh WHY did it? It was just soooo good!)
Joss Whedon, Firefly & Serenity: how I LOVE thee!
This is a one-chapter story, but it's rather long, so buckle up. There won't be any more chapters, since this is just something that came to me after seing the last minutes of Serenity. One-shot, but a lengthy one - because, as you can see, I DO love my ramblings... ;)
There's a dictionary in the bottom, if you have trouble with the foreign words and phrases. I've copied those so don't kill me if they're wrong, okay? ;)
Hope you'll enjoy - and remember: R&R's make me a happy girl!
An Unlikely Match
It's no surprise to her. Anyone else would most likely have looked at her like she was crazy. She's used to that though. They all do it. Give her that sideways glance when they think she doesn't notice, and there's fear in their gaze. Their entire posture screams at her (as if their thoughts don't echo loudly enough in her head, and it always gets worse when it hits them that she probably knows what they're thinking. Panic strikes them then. As if they think she's gonna kill them with her mind for thinking she's a strange, unstable, dangerous mess. As if she didn't know already and hates herself for it.), that they don't understand her, that they find her even more troublesome now she's less crazy and even less of a person. They preferred her when she was just insane. Insane, they could handle.
Well… They all think they could.
She's not so sure.
He's the only one who doesn't.
His mind is clear of fear. His mind is usually clear and clutter free, altogether. He has simple thoughts. Thoughts of food, sex, sleep, work and fighting. He doesn't mix them up, and he doesn't try to understand what is out of his range.
He considers himself a bit of a buhn dahn, and they both know that's the way most other people see him, too. Shallow. Simple. One-track-minded.
She thinks he's probably the smartest of them all, in his own way.
He never flinched when they told him about the way she tricked Jubal Early. He just nodded silently, as he kept munching on one of his impaled apples, and after he'd swallowed down the last edible bit of it, he tossed its core into the trash (with a careless overhand throw that would have left any baseball player envious. If there was still baseball). Then he simply nodded and said
"Cai bu shi. She'da prob'ly been able ta do it too."
And that was all he'd have to say on the matter.
(He had a LOT of other things to add when it came to how pissed off he was about missing out on the "action" for sleeping, though. But that's another topic, entirely.)
While the others had chatted incessantly about how they'd understood the ploy all along, all of them agreeing with the lie, he'd just lifted his eyebrow a little to signal his questioning of their stupid games and refused to join in the act.
She understands. She feels the surprising purity of his soul. On the surface he's all kinds of rude, crude and (honestly) kind of disgusting but most of that's just an act.
A way to keep the real Jayne Cobb from getting hurt.
He's got a simple mind. He listens, he takes in, and he acts or reacts accordingly. So when River talks about Wash as if he's still around, while everyone else would have reacted in that annoyingly skittish way, as always, he sits silent and still for a while. He doesn't pat her hand condescendingly, frown or talk to her in that way they do, as if words could break her. He just thinks and then asks the only question that's of relevance:
" Jian ta de gui?"
River shakes her head then, her eyes locked to his.
"Not his ghost. The girl doesn't see ghosts. She hears him. His thoughts. He's nothing but thoughts, now. He is loud."
Jayne asks the only thing that crosses his mind. The most logical thing, really.
"So… Whut's he sayin'?"
River's big brown eyes meet his, and she cocks her hear to one side, her forehead crinkled and her eyes wide, as she calculates the best response to the question.
"Unclear." She nods softly. "He is upset, very loud. Not as coherent as the others, though. They all interfere with the girl's own thoughts. Jayne doesn't interfere. The girl likes that. Calm."
She takes to sticking around him as much as she can, and he doesn't mind, really. He tries to run her off initially but that's more of a habit than anything else – that growl and the angry frown that he faces her with, are a mask like any other mask. River doesn't bother much with the surface things. She sees what's underneath and she knows that he doesn't really disapprove of her presence.
The closer she is to him, the less she hears the thoughts of the others, including Wash, she only hears his – and only if she attempts to. When she doesn't focus (or he feels very strongly about something), his brain is mostly like background noise, or rather some kind of unobtrusive backbeat, and it becomes part of her personal life's soundtrack.
She revels in the silence.
Sits on the ledge above him as he's working out, singing songs he's never heard before. She calls them ditties and says that they're from Earth-that-was. Some kind of fella with a strange name (something with a sword or spear or something) wrote them into his plays.
Jayne accepts this without any questions. He doesn't even know what a play is but he figures that since she does, and the songs are sort of nice to listen to, why argue? It makes her smile, this way he just fits new information into his world without making a fuss.
Just the way his brain never interferes with hers, but just kind of hums in the back of her mind most of the time.
She likes the way he does things. He doesn't talk about them or think about them overly much. He acts and reacts. He handles things, instead of analyzing them to bits and pieces, constantly torturing her with information in the process. It's soothing to her overloaded brain, this lack of small-talk-thinking, and she actively seeks it out. He's growing accustomed to her quiet presence, inevitably.
He's even starting to enjoy it.
Jayne never had a pet when he was a boy, but he is pretty sure that this here, the way she kind of just always is around, is something very similar.
She realizes, one day, that Jayne can sort of hear her thoughts too. She thinks it's because his mind isn't as cluttered with "should haves, could haves and would haves" as the rest of the crew's are. He focuses in a whole different way.
It just happens one day as he's in his bunk cleaning "his girls", paying extra special loving attention to Vera, as always and River's on the floor beside him, folding little paper cranes out of one of his porn mags. (He hasn't noticed yet. River finds it fascinating, the way the folds hide and emphasize the naked skin all at once.)
He's paying her no mind and she likes it, so she studies him while he caresses Vera lovingly, making sure she's good as new. Good as always.
She suddenly finds herself intently curious to know if he named her after anyone special.
There's a slight huff and a quick glance in her direction as he grunts out
"Gwon ni tze jee duh shr, moonbrains!"
So she does mind her own business, only not in the way he expected. In Riverlogic, his mind IS now her business, but he's tense now and his mind is racing. She could read it if she wanted to, but Simon says she shouldn't read minds. He claims that it's rude and impolite to listen in on thoughts. (As if she could help it, with most of them, the way their brains are screaming all the time.) Plus, she has long since decided not to intrude within his mind, unless she can help it, since he doesn't interfere with hers. However, Riverlogic also says that entering is different from letting him enter, so she just waits for a half hour or so while he goes through the rest of his "girls" before she sends out a thought.
"Jayne cares for the girl."
She focuses all her curiosity into that simple sentence, but it's not a question. It's statement of fact. She knows, she just doesn't understand why.
At first, there's nothing. Then, he nods and, without looking up, simply answers her
"Shi. Yer almost as rut up s'me. We gotta stick t'gether."
She suddenly stands in his bunk, one night. He likes to think that he has learned to recognize her sound of her soft footsteps drumming on the floor, and that the fact that he doesn't wake up until she touches his shoulder has nothing to do with him getting older or her being all ninja-like.
He captures her wrist, tosses her onto her back in one fluid movement and pins her down with one hand and knee, while using the other hand to grab hold of Vera, cocking her and pointing her at the base of River's temple.
It all just takes half a second, but then he sees her.
He starts to apologize before the fear grabs him and he yells at her for being in his ruttin' bunk and leaving him the gorram rut alone.
She doesn't flinch. She doesn't cry or pout or laugh. She doesn't leave either. She just looks him in the eye and before he knows it, one of her hands has slipped out of his grip (he has no idea how she managed that) and slowly places her finger across his lips.
"Bi jweh. He doesn't have to be afraid. It's not his fault he didn't hear her. It's the little white pills that make him sleep so heavily, and the girl was very quiet coming here. She understands and she's not feeling less safe."
It's true. He has been on meds lately to block out the nightmares.
He gives up.
"Whaddaya want, moonbrain?"
He says it softly, sweetly, for a man with such gruff a voice. Almost lovingly, if there's any way a man like Jayne could sound loving when talking to a semi-crazy genius that can kill him with her brain. (She thinks he can. He thinks so too. They will never ever discuss that.)
"She thinks he needs her. And she can't sleep. Wash is lonely. He keeps talking, talking, talking. But he won't follow the girl here, into Jayne's bunk. Scoot!"
She tucks herself in, curling up as a cat in the hollow of his body, safe in his arms with her back to his broad chest. He tenses up at first, unsure what she wants from him, but she just pats his shoulder and says
So he does. He sleeps the entire night without any hint of a nightmare, cradling her tiny body and holding onto the scent of apple from her hair that reminds him of home.
She's gone when he wakes up, but the lingering spicy apple scent in the air makes him smile.
She gets into the habit of sneaking into his bunk, just as he's about to give up and reach for the pill bottle. Silent as a shadow, she just slips into his private quarters as if there were no locks (he doesn't bother disabling them. They keep people out, usually. It's just wonderkids that can pass through them as if they didn't exist, and luckily he only knows one of them. Besides, she always locks after herself, both when she's coming and when she's going.).
They don't talk much. She slips out of her socks and sweater, leaving her in one of those grandma-style nightgowns that Simon finds appropriate for her. Tucking her tiny cold feet between his calves, she curls up in his arms and falls asleep. He sometimes play with her hair a while before he succumbs to the sandman – because it makes her emit a very calming, content purring sound before it is switched for soft snoring, and because he likes the scent of apples and cinnamon that it brings to his bunk.
She's always gone when he wakes up, but there's the lingering scent and a small, still warm indentation to his mattress that says that she was there not too long ago.
It's all very innocent, chaste and sweet. They just share the warmth and space of his tiny bed while locking the nightmares and ghosts outside, somehow. It's like they're each other's dream catcher, only so much more tangible.
He's taken to whistling in the morning, and he's unusually cheerful and talkative (the norm is that he just grunts or glares but these days, he actually says "G'mornin" as he enters for breakfast, and Kaylee swears that she's seen him smile at least once) which makes the little mechanic happy. Kaylee is practically beaming at the sight of Jayne's previously unprecedented good mood. Mal and Zoe just shrug and figure that you shouldn't interfere with a good thing, but with Simon, there's another story.
He doesn't trust Jayne Cobb as far as he can throw him, and considering Jayne's bulk and Simon's own inability to lift even the slightest weights (Kaylee actually even laughed at him when she'd had to remove some of the weights SHE used before he could even move the gorram thing!), that's not far.
So he spies. He takes to listening in the night, intently focused on his mei-mei's footsteps. And he hears them disappear in the night, and not come back until morning.
His mind goes straight into the gutter and he doesn't like what he finds there.
He's is appalled at first. Then angry. Fuming, actually! Below it all, though, the same feeling always lurks. Fear. He's terrified that the mercenary idiot is going to hurt his precious mei-mei. He voices his concern to Mal, but the captain refuses to be the go-between man on this particular topic. He sends Simon off to Jayne to defend his sister's honour.
It takes a little while for him to try to decide on the tactics, since he knows he's hopelessly out of his league physically – and talking Jayne out of something never works. The big man just grunts at him and stares him down as if he's dumb to even try reasoning with a merc, so he's not sure how to go about it.
In the end, no tactics are used as Simon lays eyes on a happily humming River, during the evening meal, and he cracks – all but spitting out his brotherly concern.
"She's seventeen, Jayne! She's not just one of your whores, you can't… It… I won't allow it. I'll… Choo fay wuh suh leh!"
Jayne stops in the middle of his ministrations (gnawing a huge hunk of protein straight off of what looks more like a machete than a dining knife) and stares at Simon, his forehead crinkled and his eyes blazing. He doesn't say a word, just sizes Simon up with those dark, angry eyes of his. Eyes that have made bigger men shake in their boots, just as the growl that hums in Jayne's chest makes Simon all kinds of shaky, now.
Just as Simon is sure he's gonna be lying bleeding on the floor with a protein embellished, enormous knife sticking out of his chest any second now, the big man shakes his head with a slight, amused snort.
"Git yer gorram head outta that ruttin' pi gu of yers, doc. Ain't like that. Ain't nuthin like that at all. Wuh de ma."
Jayne shakes his head and makes a face.
"Fer a bright man, yer pretty gorram yu bun duh!"
There's silence for a minute, and no one dares to speak. No one dares to break the locked gaze of the two men, staring each other down.
Then, suddenly, River laughs.
Sitting up straight on her chair, her head slightly tilted as if she is listening to something no one else hears. Her chin rests on her entwined hands in front of her, making her look almost painfully innocent.
She looks at Simon and shakes her head at him, a low "tsk tsk-sound" reverberating through the silent dining arena, and then shares a look with Jayne – and she laughs that laugh that sounds like tiny silver bells ringing. A happy, contagious sound that Simon has so desperately missed. The little girl laugh she used to have before the blue hands took her. The laugh he'd live or die for. And she's sharing that with Jayne. Not him. The pain is immediate and scorching.
The worst part is that Jayne lets out a rumbling laugh of his own and winks at her, before he keeps assaulting his food with his strong teeth – and Simon has no idea what is going on. He doesn't like their camaraderie one bit. Simon never liked being left out of the loop.
Not even as a boy. Not even a little.
But River laughs and then she stops, all of a sudden serious, and caresses his cheek.
"The girl doesn't love Jayne more than Simon. The girl won't leave Simon, unless Simon wants her to leave. He needs to trust the girl."
She falls silent for a second and her head whips to the side, her eyes meeting with Jayne's across the table. She nods slightly and continues:
"…and Jayne. Simon needs to trust Jayne. Jayne would never hurt the girl. Ever."
Jayne gets off his chair and saunters out of the room. River follows him like a shadow, her tiny hand disappearing into his big one like it was always meant to be there and that the separation was even stranger than them holding hands.
As they turn the corner, Simon feels emptier than he ever remembers doing, before.
Like he no longer has a purpose.
Simon has no idea what to do with his life, unless he has a clear purpose.
All the faces around the table are turned down, the voices silent. No one meets his gaze as he collects himself, gathers his dishes and leaves the room.
That night, she doesn't show up by his bed and neither of them sleeps.
He misses the rise and fall of her breathing body and that scent that always comforts him and makes him think of crisp fall days and his ma's apple pie.
The frail girl lies awake just a few doors down and pushes her hands against her head in a desperate attempt to block out not only her brother's oh-too-loud-worshipping of Kaylee's body in his mind, as they lie together in the mechanic's bunk, but also to Wash's desperate pleas for his wife's attention. He won't listen to reason and River has given up on trying to calm him down, this night.
The entire sphere that is Serenity is heavy with angst and it seems to affect almost everyone. No one really gets any sleep that night, with River acting as an amplifier of the angst that Wash's spirit radiates through the ship. Until Jayne taps silently on her door. His fingers are just lightly dancing on the surface, barely touching, because he's not quite sure he oughta be there at all, that it's proper. So when his hand stretches out in front of him, grazing over the material in her door, it makes a sound no one should be able to hear, but River feels his mind the second before his fingers touch the metal and she flings herself into his arms willingly when he smiles sheepishly down at her from the other side of the doorway.
She repeats the very first order she gave him, on their very first night together.
He carries her into is bunk and tucks her into his chest, pulling the covers up over them both and breathes in her that scent that is cinnamon and apple and stillness and River, caressing a loose strand of her hair until her breaths fade into the soothing soft snore that always work as a sleeping pill for him. As they finally fall asleep, the lingering hurt and longing that is Wash silently slips into nothingness for another night and Serenity is once more still.
They sleep together every night except for the time when Jayne decides to go to town and find himself a whore for the night. He's missed the sexin' and he figures it's probably for the best if he gets any of those urges outta his system when he can, just to make sure his dreams don't turn lecherous and his hands go roaming over River. So, he takes to town and finds himself a pretty ma tze for the night. Afterwards, he lies there sleepless, staring into the black night and wondering what's wrong with him. Instead of wanting a re-run of the last hour's (very satisfying) events, he's actually feeling all sorts of uncomfortable and…wrong.
When it hits him, he gets out of bed, into his clothes and outta the door in less than two minutes and he is back on the ship in under twenty.
She is lying awake on his too narrow bed (there's hardly room for half a man his size, really. Still they manage to sleep well on it together each night.), staring up into the ceiling.
"Xiao mei …" he begins, but is cut short when she turns her big, chocolate eyes on him and smiles that innocent smile that always makes him feel as if he could be a better person, just for her."Jayne is back. The girl is pleased."
She sniffs the air quickly and adds
"She will be even more pleased after Jayne has taken a shower. Schoo!"
He doesn't even bother arguing. He just laughs and grabs a towel and a change of clothes.
"Be right back, girl. Then we sleep."
"Then we sleep."
(That is the one and only time Jayne tries sleeping without her, again.)
As he gets into the shower, he feels that strange feeling again. Like a big balloon of warm air is expanding beneath his rib cage. A fluttering of something … soft and happy.
Jayne Cobb isn't used to loving another human being, but he knows with all his heart, with all his being, that he would live or die for the moonbrained little crazy with the apple/cinnamon scented hair.
And it doesn't bother him one bit.
Not until she decides she needs to be alone for the night.
"The girl has to speak to Wash. It's imperative that she finds out what Wash wants. She is certain that Jayne fully approves, and understands why he cannot accompany her."
He doesn't get it, really, and he disapproves something awful. He frowns, shakes his head and flat out refuses, but it's no good. She's got a stronger will than him, by far, and they both know it.
He's actually biting his nails. When he realizes, he coughs and thanks his lucky star hat no one's watching, but he picks out a machete and rounds off the edges of his nails, cutting them down on the sharp edge anyway, just for good measure.
It worries him, that she's alone in the night with a ghost, or whaddayacallit.
It's not really that he thinks that Wash means any harm. Wash was always kind of a wimp, and Jayne actually sorta liked that about him. There was something admirable about a man who didn't try to hide the fact that he was being all kinds of pussy whipped. Everyone knew that Zoe was the strong one, the fighter, and the one who called the shots. It never seemed to bother Wash one bit, and Jayne kinda found that cool, in some backwards way. Plus, he figured that since Wash had been the one getting lucky with Zoe on a regular basis, there had to be something to be said for braniac wimps.
And yeah, he'd liked the man.
Still, he doesn't like it that River is waiting to speak with his essence, or whatever she called it. It's gorram freaky and wrong. Especially without him there to protect her IF anything should go wrong, but no matter how much he argued his case she refused to let him. Said that he'd just drown out the spirit she was trying to hear, and "no matter how grateful she is that he was indeed able to do that, it is imperative that he doesn't disturb her while attempting to communicate with Wash" or something like that. He probably wouldn't have let that stop him but, unlike her, he can't pick the locks on the bunks on Serenity with less than half an hour's worth of groaning and cussing.
So he waits in his bunk, while trimming his nails down so far the raw skin is starting to hurt.
She shows up smiling, twirling in that butterfly/ballerina kind of way that she always did when she was alone. Before the Reavers. Before Wash.
She flutters like a hummingbird in his bunk, not once stopping to look at him or stop the wordless singing that is falling from her lips, and he stares at her, silently waiting.
He does silence very well. To a limit. He's way past that when he reaches out, grabs her arm and pulls her down into his lap.
"Calm down, moonbrain. Didja talk to'im?"
She nods, hums, she taps her feet, she drums her fingers to a strangely familiar beat (it's the rhythm of his mind and soul, but he doesn't realize that) and twirls her hair around her fingers.
Then, all of a sudden, she sits up straight and looks him right in the eye, serious as cancer and just as scary for a second. Then the glitter comes back in her eyes and she holds her index finger across his lips.
"Schhh! The girl has to keep Wash's secret for a little while longer. Jayne mustn't ask."
She hops up and leaves him sitting there, dumbfounded, as she tosses her sweater in one corner of his bunk and peels off the socks while standing on first one foot, and then the other and doing complicated twirls at the same time.
She tucks herself into his bed and then pats the mattress in a very decisive manner.
"Jayne must lie down. Sleep, now."
He sighs and obeys, but he's adamant that he will find out what kind of secret she is keeping for the deceased pilot, tomorrow.
Right now, though, her hair is tickling his nose in a very familiar way and her lithe body is already on the way into dream world. He can tell from the way her shoulders rises and falls. So he inhales deeply, closes his eyes and gets whisked away by the sandman, off to a world where his ma is still making him apple pies, where Jayne Cobb smiles instead of snarling and where no ghosts exist.
He never gets her to tell him, and he never realized that he'd be able to feel her thoughts, so he never attempts to try. She's relieved, because she's almost certain that he could do it. Not to anyone, just to her. But she thinks it's important this secret too, if only for a little while longer. So she stays quiet.
She remembers his birthday and makes him apple pie.
(A small plan she nurtures behind his back. Another little secret that she keeps, but that doesn't make her stomach feel as heavy and uncomfortably numb as the other secret does.)
She stares at him nervously as he bites into the warm treat, and when he closes his eyes and moans in appreciation as the spicy, familiar taste of his childhood invades his taste buds, her face lights up with the happiest smile he's seen grace her features so far. He's not even sure what makes him feel better. The taste of apple, cinnamon, sugar and safety on his tongue, or the smile on the girl's face.
He decides that it's a tie.
When confronted, Mal has to admit to helping her get the ingredients and Kaylee found a recipe and River found the small details inside his brain. She apologizes profusely for stealing his thoughts. He lifts her up and twirls her around, a rumbling laugh shaking his chest and making her giggle. As he sets her down to her feet again, he places a tender kiss on her forehead and promises her that it's alright.
(He realizes that the girl apparently has money going for her because this stuff, apples and whatnot, ain't cheap. It doesn't matter to him though. What matters is the apple pie and her smile.)
In return Jayne decides to give River the other knitted hat his ma made him. The one he kept clean. When he tries, though, she thanks him but refuses to accept it. She wants the one that smells like him, she says. So she gets the orange one and it looks ridiculous and adorable on her, all at once. She wears it all the time, everywhere, but he pulls it off of her at night and lovingly tucks it in with Vera. They both find that strangely fitting. He then untangles her long locks, and thinks he's probably grown addicted to having that apple/cinnamon scent around him, to be able to sleep.
The entire crew seem less tense after that. Their sideways glances are no longer as hostile, and things go back to some kind of almost-normalcy. Kaylee starts playing and dancing with River again – her eyes no longer watchful all the time.
Jayne can see the relief in the small girl's eyes, her smile wider now than in a long time.
Even Simon has backed down, admitting that nothing improper is going on between the large mercenary and his mei-mei. As a matter of fact, Simon seems rather content with all the extra time he gets to spend with Kaylee, and the chestnut-haired mechanic is absolutely beaming with happiness as the man of her life is paying her so much attention.
The ship is slowly returning to a happy state.
Until Zoe faints in the dining room and is rushed to the infirmary.
She wakes up pale and shaking, apparently feeling rather shook up by the incident.
River is kneeling by Zoe's side on the stretcher and holds the older woman's hand gently, looking her intently in the eyes, reading her anxiety and discomfort as a book.
"You don't know! Wash said you were unaware, but I didn't think…"
Zoe inhales sharply and tears her hand free of River's.
"Wash is dead, River."
River frowns in confusion and her big brown eyes are filled with tears as she seems to whisper something no one can hear. Zoe, who has risen to her feet, suddenly turns pale and holds her hand over her mouth. Simon just barely gets a bowl out to her before she heaves into it and falls back onto the thin bed, her knees too weak to hold her.
River doesn't move a muscle. She just sits beside Zoe and watches.
Finally, Zoe looks up at River.
"Wash…" her voice doesn't carry any further, but River understands, and nods.
She slowly moves her hand and places it on top of Zoe's flat stomach and smiles.
"It's a boy."
Zoe's eyes slowly fill with tears and she shakes her head.
"I don't… I can't… It…"
River replies in a voice that starts out as her own, but the final words sounds just like Wash's
"He wanted me to tell you that 'Wo de tian a, baby… Don't name him Hoban after me, or I'm gonna hafta come back and haunt you. But bao bei, whatever you do… Remember that I love you. Both of you.'"
The room falls silent and the only sound you can hear is coming Zoe, who is sobbing quietly. Then she says
"Sheh sheh, xiao mei."
Her hand is already resting protectively across her stomach as she turns her face down, her eyes filled with as much wonder as tears.
As the fear slowly dissipates, she revels in the feeling, the realization that they're not scared of her anymore. The only thoughts River hears are the happy, jumbled up of the future mother in front of her while the others seem to be radiating warmth and acceptance rather than the cold, slightly hostile insecurity she's been getting from them for such a long time.
She sighs and leans into the strong body behind her. He folds his big, strong hand around her slender one and they leave silently, hand in hand.
"The girl did a good thing…" she mumbles, softly.
He nods and squeezes her hand gently, simply replying
"She did. The best."
Buhn dahn = idiot, moron
Cai bu shi = yeah, sure
Jian ta de gui = You saw his ghost?
Gwon ni tze jee duh shr = Mind your own business
Shi = Yes
Bi jweh = Shut up. Be quiet.
Choo fay wuh suh leh = Over my dead body
Pi gu = bottom, behind, "arse"
Wuh de ma = Mother of God
Yu bun duh = stupid
Ma tze = female companion (rather derogatory slang)
Xiao mei = dear sister, young lady (endearment)
Mei mei = little sister (also as a term of endearment)
Bao bei = baby, darling, sweetheart
Sheh sheh = Thank you
Ruttin' = Fuckin'
Gorram = Bloody, goddamn (kinda)
Shiny = Good, great