[ For his part, York doesn't seem to mind that Wash doesn't reciprocate. It's enough that he doesn't dodge it, and the tension in him is worrisome still but it means a lot that he isn't pulling away. When Wash clears his throat York lets him go, still smiling even if there's a hint of sadness in his eyes for his old friend's state these days.

He knows what it's like to tell yourself you're fine, that you don't need friends or human contact, and for it not to be true. They'll work on it. The old Wash is still in there, he saw a glimpse.

If he's gonna be stuck here, he might as well do some good for someone who's actually still alive. ]

I've got a better story about her. One you don't know either.

[ He kneels in front of the crystal and clears his throat, remembering how fairy tales usually start. ]

Once upon a time, on a planet called Reach, there was a ridiculous club called Errera and a soldier who'd been abandoned there by his friends...