Oh, Jesus. She's really not sure where he's going with this, but she feels uneasy, nervous in a way she usually doesn't. It's the not knowing that really gets her. She might know Wash -- pretty damn well, all things considered -- but he's not really predictable. And he's always been different from the Wash she knew. They don't always make the same call, the same move. Either way, it's obvious that he's serious, that this is already intense. And York is usually on the other side of these conversations.

"Wash," she says, not really sure how to follow that up or what she really wants to say, whether she's trying to get him to spit it out or stall for time. She sets her glass down, curling her hands around the edge of the counter. Somehow she feels like she needs to brace herself. "C'mon, it's not like you have to -- y'know."