Wash had been keeping an eye on Locus ever since he'd walked in. He'd seen Locus settle on the couch, watched York head for him, and figured that either they'd already talked or they planned to hash it out now and gone back to rearranging the snack table to make more room.

He'd turned back around ten seconds later to find York sprawled in Locus' lap and Locus looking like a startled cat, and he knows exactly who to blame.

He crosses the room at a brisk, purposeful walk, not stopping or even slowing down as he grabs York's upper arm and yanks him along. "I'm borrowing this," is the abrupt explanation he tosses over his shoulder at Locus, and he doesn't stop until he's hauled York out into the hallway and pushed him up against the wall.

"What," he starts, voice quiet and intense, "The fuck. Do you think you're doing?"