"Good. Helmet." He looses the grip he's got on Wash's neck and nods to the bed. Suit up. Move out. Much as he'd like to check in, to make sure Wash is still wash- they need to move. They don't have all that much time- even now there's the sound of boots in the hall coming round, trying to hunt them.

York braces himself in the door and unslings the BruteShot from his back Waits for them to come around before firing. It's not Carolina- he isnt' worried about that.

She'd never let them hear her coming. "We're heading to the armory. Get ready to move out."