It's probably a fucked up kind of commentary that this isn't all that unfamiliar. The framing of it- shit yeah- that's weird as balls. An arena full of violent delights? Stuff out of science fiction, he thinks, with an AI subletting part of his brain. But the palpable wave of exhaustion and grief, the relief stringing through the air, huddled people limping to a medic's station or grief counseling?

Ok they didn't have counseling available immediately after their return from the front but damn if that isn't a sign that these people care more.

It's all a little familiar. Which makes, well, finding a familiar face a little less odd than it should be. At least until he gets close enough in the crowd to see signs of...age. Wash was younger than him, was the bright eye'd rookie, was the focused optimist, sorta. And now it's like- well. Looking at himself after his first fucking tour. But worse. "Wash!"

Jesus fuck the kid (doesn't look like a kid, gonna skip that) looks like he needs a hug and a nap.