[ How's that working out? Wash doesn't want to think about that. He's able to function if he doesn't think about it, and that's enough for him. But the question nudges at him, makes him clench his jaw and lower his gaze again.

He can't even hide that something about the whole thing isn't right. That it hasn't been working out well for him. God, he wants to. He wants to put on a poker face and pretend that it's working out great, that he's got this awesome and helpful partner like York does or North does, but no. He's here and he's having a hard time holding it together, instead.

Tightening his fists, Wash gives his head a small shake and attempts a smile. It comes out as more of a grimace as he lifts his head to look back over at Miles, though his eyes don't meet the other's gaze. He's a bad liar, and he doesn't want the guy to see the fear that he can feel in his eyes. ]

It's... Fine. [ He manages finally, talking slowly and deliberately. ] Sort of. Something, uh. Went a little wrong with mine, so I don't actually have one right now. Yet. I think they were fixing it before I got brought here.

[ Big. Fat. Lies. But he can't tell the truth because the truth makes him go to bad places and he can't do that. Not here, especially, not now. Not in front of someone on his new crew. Can't let anyone know that he's not necessarily stable. ]