[ No, Maine hasn't dealt with the empathy bond well so far. But when he sees Wash move his arm, he doesn't immediately peg that as the reason. Instead, he thinks that Wash is flinching away from him.

Makes sense. Hurts like a bitch, but it makes sense.

Maine doesn't outwardly react. Just threads his fingers together and rests his elbows on his knees. Waits for Wash to get his words out.

And oh, what a question it is. Maine grunts again, acknowledging without immediately diving into an answer. Taking a moment to formulate his thoughts. Because at the end of the day, he doesn't know how much Wash told him. Doesn't know if there was more to tell. There always seemed to be something: cryptic one-liners dropped like puzzle pieces for Maine to figure out.

He lets out a quiet breath. Digs in. ]

Said I get shot. Can't talk. Get Sigma. Get close to him. Change.

[ He doesn't know how, exactly. Ultimately, he doesn't think it's important. ]

Turn traitor. [ A word he assigned to himself, not one Wash called him. One he bears all the same. ] Start attacking teammates, taking A.I. Turn myself into…

[ For the first time, he hesitates. His blank-faced, almost monotonous recitation gives way under a flicker of confusion. He still doesn't understand this part. Doesn't know why the fuck he would do it. Doesn't know what to call it other than: ]

… A vessel. Eight A.I.

[ He's quiet for a second, then shrugs and tonelessly ends it with, ]

End up dead.

[ After a second, he glances at Wash. Raises his eyebrows: "Miss anything?" ]