[Tucker was still glaring when he climbed to his feet, refusing the offered hand. It would take a bit before the anger would wear down, erode to a polished edge instead of this jagged, serrated thing that was sharp, that was lashing out. The melted gray snow and mud was soaked into his clothes, mixed with the blood into the fabric and fuck, it’s not like there’s washing machines, Wash. It’s not like it’s armor that it wipes off once hit with a fucking powerwasher.

But it’s not Wash’s fault, either, and he knew that on some level, but it was easy to lash out.

All I wanna do is stand around and talk to my friend. But he’s gone now and all I have is you!]

We were in the village. Riverfall. Assholes came, spotted us, got her, and a bunch of people died. [Have the cliffnotes version, because he knows the more detailed was going to Piotr. Hands rubbed against his coat as if he could clean them.] Look, all that matters is getting her back.

[Alone. Together. Whatever, as long as the results are the same.]