Wash settles as best he can, rolling his shoulders slowly and keeping an eye on the door. The ringing is starting to abate now that the trap has stopped, and while he's not about to crash out completely, he knows he can go from resting to combat ready in a few seconds flat, so-

That train of thought screeches to a halt as the rough, rhythmic sound of metal on metal echoes down the hallway and through the door. Goddammit the Robotican is back-

He's on the opposite side of the small entryway, in full view of the door and with his knife drawn, in a matter of seconds. "I'll distract it," he says tersely. "You run." Pidge is tired and frustrated; Wash is used to running on exhaustion and has more experience than he'd like in taking down opponents while at a severe disadvantage. He can handle this. If all else fails, he can try to lure the Robotican into the crushers or toss it off the edge.