[ York shakes his head, having already gone over this with several other people. It's hard to keep shit under wraps when you show up screaming about it. He takes a seat on Wash bed, then, the hand on his neck coming up to scrub and muss at his hair. He's not coping well with this part of things. With the feeling of wrongness that comes with the silence in his head. The flashes, the echoes of Delta calling his name. ]

I should still have him. [ He looks up at Wash, who's closer now, and reaches out for him. Come on, sit down. They can talk with softer voices if they're closer, anyway. ] However I wound up here, I don't think he came along for the ride. Or he's trapped in the implant, deactivated.