At the very least, York tastes the water and tries to take a few sips, coughing only briefly as she finally wets her tongue. There's a vague halo of unreality around all of this, like she's swimming through a dream, because that's Wash's voice, and he's supposed to be locked up in a padded room back at Freelancer HQ. When she opens her eyes, her vision is blurry, eyes crusted up with a beach's worth of sand. Fuck.
For lack of a suit of armor, Delta hijacks the nearest hard-light display — the holoscreen displaying York's medical chart — to project himself over York's shoulder.
"Agent Washington," says Delta, and while his tone has always been a little hard to read, Wash should still be able to detect the muted mix of surprise and wariness. "York is not yet fully conscious, but it appears she has survived what I had presumed to be a fatal wound."
Does he sound a little...upset that he was wrong? Who can say! He's also got some very obvious questions, but in his experience, the human mind's processing time is...a little slow. He's giving you some breathing room, Wash. Isn't he so accommodating.
no subject
For lack of a suit of armor, Delta hijacks the nearest hard-light display — the holoscreen displaying York's medical chart — to project himself over York's shoulder.
"Agent Washington," says Delta, and while his tone has always been a little hard to read, Wash should still be able to detect the muted mix of surprise and wariness. "York is not yet fully conscious, but it appears she has survived what I had presumed to be a fatal wound."
Does he sound a little...upset that he was wrong? Who can say! He's also got some very obvious questions, but in his experience, the human mind's processing time is...a little slow. He's giving you some breathing room, Wash. Isn't he so accommodating.