[ He sees that glint to her eyes, the slight questioning tilt of her head. Ah. Well. That answer is easy enough, as long as he doesn't have to go into detail, and so he does offer her something, with a knowing, wry smile. ]
More men of vision. [ It's always the same thing, isn't it? More men or women with ideas and grand visions, perfect weapons, perfect soldiers to end the war. In her case it sounds like they were looking for a single operative, and in the Spartans and so many others, they were trying to build an army.
They succeeded, too.
Wash understands what she means, reads between the lines easily enough. It helps, but in the way a spar helps him, in the way a spar would help any other soldier, restless and frustrated and in need for an outlet or wanting for something to keep them busy, to keep them on form. In other words, for her specific problem? It wasn't helping. Not really. And part of him wonders, looking back at her, especially when she caps the bottle, just taking her in, just what she would be like at full force. She's already one of the best damned fighters he's ever sparred against, reminding him so much of Carolina, of Tex.
That other question is easy, too. He turns away to empty the last of his own bottle, crunching it slightly when he sets it down on some nearby bench, rolling one shoulder to stretch himself out slightly as he shoots her a slight grin. ]
Ready if you are.
[ This has been a good talk. And if she's anything like him -- and she is, from everything he's learned -- then she's just as tense, and both of them know what one good way is to let that tension loose. ]
no subject
More men of vision. [ It's always the same thing, isn't it? More men or women with ideas and grand visions, perfect weapons, perfect soldiers to end the war. In her case it sounds like they were looking for a single operative, and in the Spartans and so many others, they were trying to build an army.
They succeeded, too.
Wash understands what she means, reads between the lines easily enough. It helps, but in the way a spar helps him, in the way a spar would help any other soldier, restless and frustrated and in need for an outlet or wanting for something to keep them busy, to keep them on form. In other words, for her specific problem? It wasn't helping. Not really. And part of him wonders, looking back at her, especially when she caps the bottle, just taking her in, just what she would be like at full force. She's already one of the best damned fighters he's ever sparred against, reminding him so much of Carolina, of Tex.
That other question is easy, too. He turns away to empty the last of his own bottle, crunching it slightly when he sets it down on some nearby bench, rolling one shoulder to stretch himself out slightly as he shoots her a slight grin. ]
Ready if you are.
[ This has been a good talk. And if she's anything like him -- and she is, from everything he's learned -- then she's just as tense, and both of them know what one good way is to let that tension loose. ]