; no one told me grief felt so like fear

A bright, cheerful voice sounds from just behind the stranger in purple. There stands a young woman, only a few inches shorter than he; she's covered in grease stains and wearing coveralls with a teddy bear patch over a painfully bright pink floral shirt. Her smile is brighter still.

"You wouldn't know where I might be able to find parts for a compression block engine, do you? No one in this dump seems to have anything newer than a series 1 repair kit. Useless," she grumbles to herself before seeming to realize there's still a person in front of her.

"Beggin' your pardon. Been a long day and I don't want to head back to my ship without what I'm looking for." (for Dhawan Master from a funky little spaceship mechanic)

"...OHP! I'm....sorry, luv, were you talking to me?"

It's not as though the Master hasn't heard every syllable the young human has spoken; the novelty is that she's speaking to him, with neither suspicion nor malice.

He's never been happier to be a nonentity.

Absurd. How sentimental.

"....Regardless, you've caught my attention, and my interest, whi-CH!"

He snaps his teeth down on the closing consonants, with a curl of the bridge of his nose and a little shudder of glee. "Is NO easy feat. Know your way about a machine, do you? And in this sector, well--" He's cut off by the sight of the girl's attire. Another shudder; this time it's not out of pleasure.

"....almost redeems your sense of couture."

He snatches out a hand and tugs on a coverall. Like a suspender strap.

No....

And the smile.

S t o p .

"...which ship?"

Dark eyes rove the clamorous market, while his smile puts piranhas to shame.

But her good mood slips just slightly when the stranger plucks at her coveralls and appears to insult her fashion sense. Normally, Kaylee wouldn’t rise to the bait, but Jayne had been stomping on her last nerve all morning, and she’d been trudging around this godforsaken planet for hours trying to find one scrap shop that had anything even remotely close to usable parts, so her patience had been worn just thin enough to snap.

“Excuse me,” Kaylee says stiffly, her expression not nearly as polite as her words. “Don’t you know it’s rude to make comment on other’s appearances. You don’t know me from Adam. For all you know, I could have the style and grace to put this whole outpost to shame, but right now I’m workin’, so forgive me if I didn’t roll out the ballgown to go scrappin’.”

She folds her arms and looks the stranger up and down. “Not that you’ve gotta lot of room to talk.”

But she considers his offer for a moment with narrowed eyes before sticking a hand out to shake.

Bonus points if they do a superhero landing and / or crack a one liner before collapsing.