[North may have done it once or twice, but Wash has made pushing people away into a way of life. He pauses, trying to find the right words for this.]
Sorry. For keeping you out.
[His apology is almost immediately ruined by a thunderaffe that has woken up from its nap, decided it wants to play, and knocked him clean off the bed in its enthusiasm. As the communicator, knocked askew, continues recording, Wash's next words can be heard from the floor.]
no subject
Sorry. For keeping you out.
[His apology is almost immediately ruined by a thunderaffe that has woken up from its nap, decided it wants to play, and knocked him clean off the bed in its enthusiasm. As the communicator, knocked askew, continues recording, Wash's next words can be heard from the floor.]
God damn it, Puddles!