"Well they're sim troopers, you said. I sure hope you've whipped them into shape." It would explain Wash's (seemingly) sudden take charge attitude, the way he structures his workout and seems used to helping everyone else with theirs. Sim troopers are kind of a joke but with the right leadership anyone can be good at what they do. York believes in this new Wash, that he could have turned them around.

And then he asks how York is holding up. York nearly laughs. "I'm... okay, I guess. Not sure if it's actually improving or I'm just learning to deal with it, probably the latter. The straight up pain is better but otherwise..." He shrugs the shoulder he's not lying on, not sure how much his friend really wants to know. About the hallucinations, the shocks, the attacks and horrific nightmares, especially since Wash told him his future? He's hardly sleeping for a multitude of reasons, that's the big thing, and Wash has probably noticed that.

"Ratchet's still helping." Which Wash couldn't have missed, if he's keeping an eye out. York is incredibly reliant and trying not to be. Trying to stand on his own, but it's just so much easier to lean. To fall back onto the comfort and support being offered. "He's... I'm waiting for him to get sick of me, to be honest. I have to do better on my own."