Firefly

Mal:
I'm gettin' a little weary of this attitude, Wash.

Wash:
[chuckling] Are you? Well, I'm so very sorry, sir. I guess the news that we're all gonna be purple and bloated and fetal in a few hours has made me a little snippy.

. . .

[The conversation escalates to a shouting match.]

Wash:
What do you expect me to do, Mal?

Mal:
Whatever you have to! And if you can't do it from here, then get a suit on and go outside on the side of the boat—

Wash:
And what?! Wave my arms around?

Mal:
Wave your arms around, jump up and down, divert the navsats to the transmitter - whatever.

Wash:
Divert the— Right! Because teenage pranks are fun when you're about to die!

Mal:
Give the beacon a boost, wouldn't it?

Wash:
Yes, Mal! It would boost the signal. But even if some passerby did happen to receive, all it would do is muck up their navigation!

Mal:
Could be that's true.

Wash:
Damn right, it's true! They'd be forced to stop and dig out our signal before they could even go anyplace.

[Mal stares at Wash. Wash stares back, realization dawning.]

Wash:
Well, maybe I should do that then!

Mal:
Maybe you should!

Wash:
Ok!

Mal:
Good!

Wash:
Fine!

[Jayne walks in on Mal and Wash arguing.]

Jayne:
Hey! [they both turn] [What the] guay you two think you're doin'? Fightin' at a time like this. [pause] [You'll] use up all the air.