[It's not as obvious as, say, the way Maine could hold up a hand, a thumb and forefinger extended in a vague U-shape against the gold dome of his helmet - a surefire indication that he had found something amusing, and was smiling. But Rinzler is vocal enough in his own right. The incremental tilt of his visor, the rasping noise that sounds like something might've gotten stuck in his throat, if he has one.
He's laughing at him. Wash settles for a disgruntled sigh, a breathy fuzz of static.]
Plenty of those.
[If he had an A.I. unit, doubtless they would have discharged biofoam at the first indication of cracked ribs or the flurrying burst of shrapnel lodging itself into the meat of his thigh. If he was the type to keep an A.I. unit, it wouldn't be a problem.
no subject
He's laughing at him. Wash settles for a disgruntled sigh, a breathy fuzz of static.]
Plenty of those.
[If he had an A.I. unit, doubtless they would have discharged biofoam at the first indication of cracked ribs or the flurrying burst of shrapnel lodging itself into the meat of his thigh. If he was the type to keep an A.I. unit, it wouldn't be a problem.
But he isn't. And so it is.]