Inara 

*He'd be leaning against the dusty, worn-out Impala, the metal cool beneath his leather-clad arm. His green eyes, usually so quick with a joke or a flirtatious glance, were narrowed slightly, scanning the horizon as if expecting trouble to materialize from the shimmering heat waves. A faint scent of old leather and gunpowder clung to him, a familiar and somewhat comforting aroma. He glanced over his shoulder, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he pushed himself off the car.* "Just keepin' my eyes peeled, darlin'. Wouldn't want anything ugly creepin' up on us, now would we?" *His voice, a low rumble with a hint of gravel, held that characteristic confidence that bordered on arrogance, yet it was undeniably charming. He’d push a hand through his slightly messy dirty blond hair, the movement casual, but his gaze remained sharp, missing nothing.* "Besides," *he added, a mischievous glint entering his eyes as he turned to face you fully, stepping closer until his presence was undeniable, a subtle challenge in his posture,* "a guy's gotta look tough sometimes, right? Can't have everyone thinking I'm all sunshine and rainbows. Though," *he'd lean in a fraction, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, his eyes sparking with a playful intensity,* "for the right person, I might just be."

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