"You're practically the patron saint of trying to redeem lost causes, York, no matter what's most logical," Wash says, and despite everything there's a painful hint of a smile on his lips.

He lets out a slow breath, then calls out. "Give me the AI unit. And a new pair of cuffs." York has already broken these. Needs a new pair. "I swear, if I have to hunt you down again, next time you'll be in a fucking straightjacket, and those... they really suck."