"Walked into a teleport storm that spat me out on a beach in front of a shark with legs." Wash shrugs. Of course they got split up. It's been the ugly refrain of his time here: get in a fight, then get separated. It's just great.

The idea of taking Arcade down a peg or two (or all of them) is appealing. Unrealistic, but appealing. "Let's find our way out of here first. Then we'll plan." Still, he can almost feel the steel in his spine at Chief's tone. It's hard to argue with that determination. Doable, but hard.

Wash freezes as the tunnels shift and oh dear God it really is Event Horizon in here. He swallows fear as his motion tracker goes haywire, registering blips that can't all be there at once, and breathes a little easier as the blips disappear.

Except for that one.

There's a hiss from that direction, and the hairs on the back of Wash's neck stand on end. That's not a good sound. That's never a good sound. He quickly flips the plasma blaster around and offers the handle to Chief. "Take the gun." There's a rifle slung over his back, so Wash won't be unarmed, and there's no reason for Chief to be (presumably) unarmed in the face of a very real threat.