He scratched the back of his head with a vaguely agreeing nod. He was wearing one of his shirts but it was unbuttoned showing his A-line undershirt. He was also wearing cargo shorts. He may have been running a little bit of a fever. He didn't realize this, though.
He sighed, deflated a little by his inability to converse and disappeared for a moment only to reappear with a hand basket. He shrugged his shoulders and started piling throat medications in. Basically he was grabbing one of everything that had the word "throat" on it.
He held one in his hand for inspection. He had paused because it was purple and had a picture of grapes on the front. He turned it this way and that. Then he tapped Sam on the shoulder.
"Is this for kids?" he whispered and made a motion that indicated a shorter person, his palm down-facing.
The social extrovert that Wash sometimes was struggled to get out despite his current impairment.