Name: Malcolm Reynolds<div class="floatright">(http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/1/13/MalReynoldsFirefly.JPG)</div><br/>Age: More'n 30, not yet 40.<br/><br/>Gender: *looks down at himself* If you're trying to be funny, I ain't laughing.<br/><br/>Role: Keep my crew flying. In one piece, mind.<br/><br/>Appearance & Personality: "Alliance records for one Malcolm Reynolds list height at just over six feet at a weight proportionate to that measure, est. 190 lbs. with a fair margin of that in muscle. Not unusually well-built, but experience and hard work had good results.  Earthy brown hair, straight, kept trim in a gentlemanly ruffian way, you know, mannish but not trying too hard for it. Known for wearing the finery of the so-called Browncoats, his jawline has been known to send young women into fits of fainting when he enters the room, and-"<br/><br/>Inara snatched the file out of the captain's hands, leaving him looking at empty palms. "I was reading that."<br/><br/>"Not according to what I see here. Aside from various crimes for which you are still at large I see little to describe your<em>breathtaking</em>good looks."<br/><br/>"Yeah, well, Alliance tends to hold a grudge. Don't much like I haven't changed my fashion yet."<br/><br/>"They are not the only ones who wish you would wash that coat more often."<br/><br/>"Wh-hey, I keep clean! Just...not more'n needs cleanin'. The smell of all that floral so forth you like'd scare off good business."<br/><br/>"And how often do you go looking for<em>good</em>business these days, Mal?"<br/><br/>Malcolm settled back in his seat as he twisted it around to face Inara. "Any job keeps us in the air's good by me. Just 'cause I don't try playing in your circles don't mean the folk I work with are any worse."<br/><br/>Inara folded her arms.<br/><br/>"...well, not all of 'em. There's... Look, I don't need to justify anything to you. I don't go around-"<br/><br/>"No, Mal, you don't. What you always seem to forget is that, despite your fixation on the concept, neither do I."<br/><br/>The Companion excused herself, leaving the captain alone on his bridge, the far reaches of the stars drifting outside the window ahead. Wash was gone, and Zoe with him. Sure, River was shaping up to be a useful hand, but that girl's no kind of company. That just left him and his ship a fair amount of time anymore, and that suited him fine. Most days. That was enough.<br/><br/>Others, seemed like all that dark couldn't get any gorram bigger with just them in it.<br/><br/>Background: Mal's background is well-known in the broad strokes and mostly unknown in the details. His part in the Unification War was to hold up with the Independents against the Alliance as long as he could, long as they could, before the whole thing folded up. Not in his side's favor, unfortunately. He's kept to the fringe since then, buying up a Firefly-class ship for himself and Zoe, and later on their extended crew: Kaylee, the dependable replacement to a worthless initial engineer hire; Wash, Zoe's<em>other</em>other half, and a damn fine pilot; Jayne, the expert...the loyal...well, he shoots guns; and then others besides.<br/><br/>After Wash died things changed in a fashion they just hadn't in the war. Zoe'd always been the direct kind; she'd come out and told him she had to go her own way, no beating around about it, and he didn't try to talk her out of it. Never had been in a marriage himself, been in love that way. No way he could speak to it and not feel a fool. They kept a channel to hold in touch if she should ever change her mind and that was that. Inara's leaving was a long time coming and it didn't surprise him when it came, even if it wasn't too happy as news went. Since then Mal's been a bit less in touch with his crew, Kaylee being the exception, and Simon and River he could afford to keep a bit closer with his tight roster of confidants shrinking rapidly.