The Sad Blanket Tour [Open]

[unrecovered]

Who| Wash and whoever else wants to join in
What| Those last two missions were terrible, and Wash is checking in on his friends to make sure they're okay and nudge them in that direction if they're not
Where| All over the ship
When| After Silent Horizon and No Sanity Clause; the rest of the afternoon/evening after Kid Q's briefing
Warnings/Notes| This is mostly for Wash's extant CR, but I'm absolutely down for him meeting new people. He's not going to turn anyone away right now, after all. Also, behold the mighty planning spreadsheet.

It has been, to put it lightly, a shitty day.

They'd beaten the Joker but lost one of their own. Half the team had been through what sounded like literal hell. Clown in a fridge victory aside, things hadn't gone well for anyone.

So, once Wash had gotten himself out of medical with a promise not to do anything strenuous until he'd healed completely, he'd hunted down as many blankets as he could find and gone looking for his teammates. He couldn't fix what had happened, but at least he could try to help.

Comments

[whyarewehere]

Grif has to think it over more. The fact that it is pineapple means Wash is going to some effort here.

On the one hand, fuck that. Grif wants to be left alone until he feels like he can successfully face the world and keep pretending it can't touch him. Wash doesn't just get to decide that they're going to talk, who the hell does he think he is?

But on the other, pizza. Possibly still warm.

The door slides open. Grif looks rough, he hasn't shaved in a couple of days. At least the fact his room is a trash heap isn't news to anyone and can't indicate how much he's been feeling like shit.

"Alright, fine," he says.

[unrecovered]

Pizza delivery involves going into Grif's room. Right. Usually he'd have some sort of joke about a hazmat suit or something, but today is about as far from usual as they're going to get.

He heads in, setting the pizza down on the first unoccupied surface he sees - or rather, the first surface not occupied by something potentially hazardous or obviously toxic. "How're you holding up?" It's a stupid question, but it's a start.

[whyarewehere]

Helpfully, the most convenient flat surface is actually a stack of empty pizza boxes. It's almost poetic, somehow. But it's not a good day for poetry.

Grif's on the pizza almost immediately, priorities the same as ever, and speaks through a mouthful of crust and pineapple and vegan cheese.

"How th'fuck does it look?" he manages around it.

[unrecovered]

"You haven't said anything on the comms in a few hours, and you haven't gone to find food, which is usually your go-to coping mechanism." Never watch Grif eat. It's just terrible. "So, not good."

[whyarewehere]

Grif finishes the slice and cleans the sauce off his fingers, still scowling.

"No shit," he says.

"What do you want?"

Because the only reason somebody'd bother is because they want something from him, right?