York feels the bottom drop out of her stomach. She can't quite think for a long moment, because the second the words come out it his mouth, it feels like her head just fills up with static. She's not prepared for this. Somehow over the last year, Wash has become a constant in her life, the only one left, really -- he's the only one who's been there since the start of all this. She's really come to rely on him being there, and she'd like to think he feels the same. That that could change this far into the game, after this long, isn't something she'd really been prepared to deal with. She'd like to think that most things just roll right off her, but some things are a little too big to shrug off.

"Oh, come on, don't -- Wash," York says, half mumbling. She shifts her gaze to the floor, the wall past Wash, her hands grabbing the counter a little tighter than she really needs to. She tries to meet his gaze again, her face a mixture of bewilderment and alarm, but she's trying to look okay. "This isn't -- you don't have to do this, alright, man? I'm fine. Whatever this is about, I'm fine, okay?"