Hands on his waist, on his back, curling through Wash's hair as they stumble back to the nearest door and he actually manages to get his key into the slot on the first try. Turns it, pops the lock and pushes Wash inside while he kicks it closed.

A week in and he's pretty settled. There's data tablets of shit he's found, things he's sorted out, drills that need doing. Photos from the project, from home, from his first unit. Things that the other Freelancers gave him. The bunk's got a home knit blanket that Smith recovered on the last run that's a deep blue and soft as hell.