Poker Game by lady_cleo2001

Genre: Comedic

Pairings/Characters: Implied River/Jayne.

Rating/Warnings: PG.

Summary: The boy's poker game is interrupted by Jayne's daughter.

"There are 2,598,960 possible hands in a five-card poker game," the five year old girl declared solemnly as her gaze watched the five players studiously. Standing by her father's shoulder she ignored the four pairs of eyes that flew to her. Instead she reached up to tug gently on his sleeve, pointed at a card in his hand and then at the table.

Mal shifted nervously, "Should she be allowed round when we're doing this?"

"Ain't no harm in it Capt'," Wash answered, grinning down at the dark hared little girl. She ignored the pilot, her attention focused on trying to climb into her father's lap. "Since when do you care about corrupting the minds of the young?"

"Ain't that," Mal answered, his forehead wrinkling as he stared down at his cards, reaching down he picked up his drink and took a quick swig. "Just wonderin' if she's more then the spitting image of her mother, anybody else notice that he always wins when she's around."

"That's because he uses her as a distraction and cheats," Uncle Simon commented.

Jayne scowled at Simon and reached down to pick her up, situating her in his lap and giving her a clear view of the table. "Where's ya mama?" He questioned, pulling the soft waves of brown from her face."

"Quiescent," she answered. Pointing down at another card she looked up at her father and shook her head again. Jayne nodded and reached out to pick up his cigar. Mulling over his hand for a second, he propped the cigar between his lips and started chewing on the end. The little girl frowned, reaching up she grabbed the cigar, dropping it back down to the ash try. "Cancerous."

Jayne frowned and picked it up again, "Ain't lit yet, little one, ain't cancerous till it's lit." She pouted, but turned back to the cards.

"Shall we play gentlemen, or listen to my niece?" Simon questioned. "Ante up, dishes."

"Fold," Mal muttered, tossing his hand.

"Curse my Dino's I'm out."

"Garbage," Book declared, tossing the slip of paper to the center.

"See your garbage and raise ya septic vat."