[ he knows it's weird for her, can hear it in her voice. it's weird for him, too. it's especially strange how talking about things with south is somehow both harder and easier at the same time. for all the obvious bad blood between them ( he still remembers, clear as day, her voice drawling and taunting, his grip tightening over the grip of his pistol as he lifts his arm -- ), there's older memories too. less unnervingly clear, a little more vague, and south had never exactly been the friendliest back in freelancer but they were still a team, still family, still had to work together when it came down to it. and there's a different kind of familiarity, too. they've traced very, very different paths, but have come out of it with similar scars, reaching their odd little camaraderie.

there's still some tension in it, some uncertainty. but wash is going to try harder, at least. ]

No rest for the wicked.

[ there's always something new.

that stance he shifts into -- there's a familiarity to it, too. no doubt she's learned a lot over her time on the rig, but he sure does remember a lot about how she moves, how she fights. ]

Did you spar with -- the other me, any? Or was it less sparring and more of an actually trying to kill each other thing.