(Untitled)

[strandedseaman]

One wouldn't think so to catch a glimpse of Horatio's grim expression as he led his team out the doors of the Compound, but he was pleased to have been able to assemble such an able-bodied group at a moment's notice

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[soarlikealeaf]

That cheerful demeanor had given away to something near complete terror and bedwetting. IN theory, this had been a good idea, but Wash remembered as he stood next to these people (oh, God, I was that woman! he thought as he caught a glimpse of Sara), he felt small and scared and much like people must feel when Jayne got all philisphical with his gun pointed at their brainpan. He tried to keep it up.

"It's, ah, just Wash. Actually," Wash corrected him, then immediately felt stupid and fell back in line. He was used to running around with a group of liberal criminals, not sailors and people that looked like coloniels.

He smiled awkwardly at the one they called 'Holmes.' He was kinda weird, but Wash liked him. Besides the fact that he scared the ever-loving pants off of him.

[ex_sherlock300]

Holmes tried not to look particularly doubtful when faced with his new partner, managing by keeping his expression schooled into amiable impassivity. "Mr. Wash," he said, offering a hand in greeting. He had noted the correction. Along with the apprehension, but he could not quite fault the man on that point. The danger would be high.

Hopefully they could work together on good terms for the next several hours. Holmes had little experience in team efforts of which he was not the leading force, but Hornblower seemed a levelheaded sort of man, quite capable of directing even so diverse a group.

[soarlikealeaf]

As far as Wash was concerned, he was low man on the totem pole. He'd done maybe three dangerous expeditions, one of which ended in torture and the subsequent rescue by his wife. He was good at one thing, and that was flying, but here he was. He just hoped his keen sense of navigation could be of some use.

"Just Wash, actually," Wash reiterated, shaking Holmes' hand. He seemed pompous, the kind of man Mal would threaten and never look back. This man would have to be his leader, temporarily.

[ex_sherlock300]

"Wash," Holmes repeated, rather dutifully, with his lips quirking very slightly up at one edge. At least this man was not too easily cowed. "I fear my own weaponry is somewhat lacking," he said wryly. He had liberated a wicked-looking kitchen knife for his own temporary purposes, and had it currently stuck through his belt, but he regretted having come to the island with a violin instead of, say, a revolver. "I do have some basic knowledge of wounds, however."

[soarlikealeaf]

Oh, Wash did not cow. In any sense of the word, actually. He didn't moo and he didn't run. Sometimes he did fly away fast-like, but no cowing! Nope! Not a bit. Well, except that one time. Or was it two? Zoe was the war hero, not him.

Wash patted the handgun tucked into his own belt soundly. Being married to Zoe and working for Mal had taught him something about weapons. "I've got this one here, but that's pretty much it. I don't reckon I'll be firing it off with too much frequency, since Cap'n would have my head if I did."