[ It's reassuring, in a way, watching Wash tense at that information. It tells Maine that whatever "understanding" Wash has with Ephemera hasn't blinded his friend. Tells him that, regardless of all that's changed, Wash still cares.
When did he start wanting reassurance? He's not sure. Isn't sure that he likes it.
Then Wash says that he'll talk to the Innie. Tell him it's "not acceptable." And—
"You should be ashamed of yourselves. I expect you to act as a team." "They used live ammunition on the floor, sir, that's against regulations." "Do you think our enemies will care about regulations on the battlefield, Agent Washington?"
— Fuck, it's like nothing has changed at all.
Behind his visor, Maine presses his lips together. Watches in silence as the too-old rookie moves another slab of meat and starts preparing everything for transport. Lets himself feel the fond exasperation — an old, familiar thing — at Wash's belief that rules mean a damn thing when it comes to war. He never could figure out whether he wanted to protect Wash's idealism, like some rare flower ... or if he wanted to crush it underfoot, because that's not the way life works, and Wash needed to understand that to survive.
Guess his future-self never bothered to teach Wash that lesson. Or maybe it just didn't stick.
(Or maybe he didn't have the chance.)
At Wash's prompting, Maine shakes himself from his thoughts. Nods and moves forward to help out. As he does so, he grunts out:
"Sorry."
Sorry that he got irritated with Wash. Sorry that he failed to communicate important information. ]
no subject
When did he start wanting reassurance? He's not sure. Isn't sure that he likes it.
Then Wash says that he'll talk to the Innie. Tell him it's "not acceptable." And—— Fuck, it's like nothing has changed at all.
Behind his visor, Maine presses his lips together. Watches in silence as the too-old rookie moves another slab of meat and starts preparing everything for transport. Lets himself feel the fond exasperation — an old, familiar thing — at Wash's belief that rules mean a damn thing when it comes to war. He never could figure out whether he wanted to protect Wash's idealism, like some rare flower ... or if he wanted to crush it underfoot, because that's not the way life works, and Wash needed to understand that to survive.
Guess his future-self never bothered to teach Wash that lesson. Or maybe it just didn't stick.
(Or maybe he didn't have the chance.)
At Wash's prompting, Maine shakes himself from his thoughts. Nods and moves forward to help out. As he does so, he grunts out:
"Sorry."
Sorry that he got irritated with Wash. Sorry that he failed to communicate important information. ]