Wash seemed to like most everyone in the Project but he and Maine had developed a report during their time on Mother of Invention. Part of it stemmed from them bunking together and part of it was the fact that Wash had never appeared to be intimidated by Maine and his large size or disinclination to not string together more than a few words at a time.
At least, he'd been capable of uttering one or two words on the rare occasion he opted to speak up but now even that was denied him. Wash had ridden with him in the Pelican that had extracted Maine after he'd been shot. He'd been forced to watch in agony when his friend and sometimes hookup had undergone zero-g surgery because regular surgery would have ended in him drowning in his own blood.
Wash knew he would never forget the sight of that dark red blood seeping across kevlar and down the front of Maine's armor and helmet for as long as he lived. He should have died on that highway. Anyone else and he probably would be dead but the brutish Freelancer was made of sterner stuff and even taking clip in the throat and face wasn't enough to take him out.
Wash's eyes briefly flickered to the nightstand and the chips as they were scattered away by one huge hand. Grayish-blue eyes traced the crude drawing of a cat that had been carved into the furniture. He looked both surprised and a little charmed by Maine's attempts at carving and he even opened his mouth to say something when the taller man motioned at him to turn all the way around so he could inspect him for injures.
"I'm fine, didn't even take a hit." Wash assured him but considering Maine had felt the need to give him something 'nice' in the shape and form of a permanent cat being carved into his bedside table, he figured the least he could do was humor him.
Besides, if he didn't, he knew Maine was perfectly capable of manhandling him into shape and while normally Wash wouldn't mind a little manhandling, he was still concerned about Maine's pain levels. So all physical activities had been put on hold until the other Freelancer recovered. "Worst part of the mission was spending a day in a half having to listen to Wyoming make terrible knock-knock jokes while up to my chest in sewage. Damned Insurrectionists can't pick a nice tropical place for their hideouts apparently."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2016-06-03 12:49 am (UTC)At least, he'd been capable of uttering one or two words on the rare occasion he opted to speak up but now even that was denied him. Wash had ridden with him in the Pelican that had extracted Maine after he'd been shot. He'd been forced to watch in agony when his friend and sometimes hookup had undergone zero-g surgery because regular surgery would have ended in him drowning in his own blood.
Wash knew he would never forget the sight of that dark red blood seeping across kevlar and down the front of Maine's armor and helmet for as long as he lived. He should have died on that highway. Anyone else and he probably would be dead but the brutish Freelancer was made of sterner stuff and even taking clip in the throat and face wasn't enough to take him out.
Wash's eyes briefly flickered to the nightstand and the chips as they were scattered away by one huge hand. Grayish-blue eyes traced the crude drawing of a cat that had been carved into the furniture. He looked both surprised and a little charmed by Maine's attempts at carving and he even opened his mouth to say something when the taller man motioned at him to turn all the way around so he could inspect him for injures.
"I'm fine, didn't even take a hit." Wash assured him but considering Maine had felt the need to give him something 'nice' in the shape and form of a permanent cat being carved into his bedside table, he figured the least he could do was humor him.
Besides, if he didn't, he knew Maine was perfectly capable of manhandling him into shape and while normally Wash wouldn't mind a little manhandling, he was still concerned about Maine's pain levels. So all physical activities had been put on hold until the other Freelancer recovered. "Worst part of the mission was spending a day in a half having to listen to Wyoming make terrible knock-knock jokes while up to my chest in sewage. Damned Insurrectionists can't pick a nice tropical place for their hideouts apparently."