Wash was tired, too. He'd been able to escape long enough to from Jo's house, locking not-Wash in the closet and barring it with a chair for good measure, to get some distance on the situation.
He was also tired as he hung himself between his crutches swinging listlessly from one step to another. He was in his own head when he heard a voice.
Forehead scrunched, he looked up confused as he wiped banana schmutz on his flight suit pants.
"Hm?" he asked. He tilted his head and squinted. "I--have we met?"