Quickly treading back three steps, Mal spreads one hand wide while pressing the other to his bag (even in surprise he has trouble with the thought of thieves stealing what goods he has in the tiny medic's satchel). Still, he smiles again -- he hasn't smiled this much in months and it's making his face ache in ways that's just sad to think about -- attempting to convey understanding.

"I'm sorry; that was downright stupid of me to joke about. I wouldn't like it if someone made a reference about myself speaking like a Kraut with only half-remembered schoolhouse knowledge to fall back on."

A deep breath. "How about we forget what a jerk I was, we see if we can find something even close to tobacco in this mess of stalls for me and something interesting for you. Deal?" Silently he includes an offer of making sure nobody else gets close enough to make her flinch while keeping his own one-pace distance.