[ Whirling onto the next thing is something that Wash can understand. He understands a lot of this, but on a different scale. He'd wanted so, so badly to help everyone, but. His voice is still quiet, soft, a soothing kind of tone, still thumbing lightly over his cheekbone. What small comfort he can give. ]

Twenty years is a lot of time to gain momentum. There was only so much we could ever do about this.

[ Squeezing his other hand lightly over his shoulder, slipping down over his arm. ] Don't tell me you're giving up, now.