Even if he does his best not to pry Wash has always been analytical, has to put pieces together in his head to puzzle things out, and he has a mental image of her world, now. Earth, but not the Earth they always talked about, before the glassing. It's rough, for whatever reason, enough that she has to frequently make use of makeshift weapons, that she has to care about counting the bullets left on a gun. That she hunts and scavenges and traps.

He takes another bite, chews a little on the squirrel. Gamey. He's never been picky, though, he's used to MREs.

"I've been feeling pretty out of place since showing up here," he admits. Not exactly a secret. "Less so here than with the Cetagandans, though. It'll be nice to learn and help out where I can."

Especially since, well, Wash's not going back. A pause, and. "You're friends with Daryl?"