Ok they're doing this. He'd thought- well. About what he'd say if he ever saw Wash again. Hiding with Delta all he had was 'what if I see them again'. Sure he kept in touch with North now and then but it was erratic dead drop encrypted frequency bullshit. Keeping tabs on the project had been difficult for about fifteen different reasons all connected to not getting his ass caught. Best he could figure Wash died in the crash or, well. Was locked up somewhere along with the rest of the Project's mistakes.

Five years to think about this and he's still got nothing. Blackest kinda bile laid out in front of him and he's got fuck and all to offer.

Delta takes charge enough to make his hands move, make him take a sip of his coffee to swallow past the knot in his throat. He could argue, he could yell- and he will in a bit. As soon as he finds the right words. "You ask for space, I give you space. You haven't told me what you want, you're just yelling. Like you always do. So I guess that hasn't fucking changed either."

Yeah, they're doing this. He sets the mug aside, lacing his fingers deliberately- a habit that's neither his nor Delta's- a shade of the Director neither of them can really shake off. Side effect of being a part of that man till he broke. till they broke.

"I don't think you give a flying fuck how I've changed. You wouldn't have given a fuck back then if I wasn't number two on the list." None of them would've. Hell, none of them did. They weren't supposed to.