[ And who's right there to stop him other than Mr. Killjoy himself. It's the sixth sense in him honed after looking after Tucker for so long, because he's right there at the right time and before Tucker has the chance to finish his scathing insult, Wash is right next to him, clapping a firm hand over his shoulder. His grip is tight enough to hurt for a second before he relaxes slightly, pointedly tugging Tucker back, enough to force him back half a step.
He doesn't say anything. It's all there in his expression, the hard set of his jaw, his lips pressed into a thin line. You know better than this, Tucker. A jerk of his head off to the side, away from the instigating soldiers. Leave it. Let's go. ]
a
He doesn't say anything. It's all there in his expression, the hard set of his jaw, his lips pressed into a thin line. You know better than this, Tucker. A jerk of his head off to the side, away from the instigating soldiers. Leave it. Let's go. ]