Wash never looked great, but he did at least always look like he was holding it together. The helmet probably helped. Either way, the cracks were showing a little too clearly, this time.

The best Greg could offer was lunch, and a grin to replace the one Wash couldn't manage. "Gotcha. Can't do much on an empty stomach, huh? Oh, I brought some CDs too, if you want to listen." He rummaged them out of his pocket, flipping through the cases. "Got some classic rock, some space synth... I don't think the alternative funk tracks are scratched up too bad." He gave one disc a squint. "Really need to stop mixing in the death metal with these guys. Well, we got variety, so whatever you want!" With the exception of quiet.