"It's fine, don't," he said as he ambled to the door behind her and fumbled with the key a few times before he opened it.
He knew what was beyond that door. To say he was living sparsely was an understatement. Nothing was on the walls and there were a few chairs in the living room and an old couch provided by whoever the last resident was, if there was one.
The bar in the kitchen had a bowl of fruit and in the cupboard was milled corn while beer, milk and eggs sat in the refrigerator. His room held the only thing that had any sense of Wash, a star chart he'd picked up at a shopping mart. And peeking into his closet you could find some of Wash there in his clothing style.
Wash hesitated with opening the door before he pushed it open only so far before he turned around, having to turn his whole body because the movement of his neck hurt.
"Thanks for coming to visit. I missed you," he admitted. "And I'm sorry."