[There is...a lot to take in there. Wash didn't die. (And Church did. At least one thing went according to plan.) Kept on going. Epsilon never made it out of the hands of the Reds and Blues. There's so much to react to that for a moment, he just goes blank, and his feet stop, and he's pretty sure the world also stops, but he's not sure about the state of the world and nor does it revolve around him.]

So you could die with your name clear?

Is that all the fuck that little suicide mission was to you? So you would be remembered in the army's books as someone who wasn't completely a fucked up lunatic? All that stuff you said, what you said about getting back at the people who did this to you, and the people you cared about, and-- [what was done to Alpha, but he doesn't echo the words back, cutting himself off and letting the implication hang for a half-second.] That was all just bullshit, huh. You were fucking in it for your own fucking self.

[It doesn't really ring right. He'd been in Wash's head, however briefly, with no idea what he was looking at and quite frankly too scared to touch anything. But he'd been there. It's not implausible, it's not off the mark, but he's not sure what he's accusing Wash of is true. But he's too angry to want to think it through all the way, nearly vibrating with it, wants to yell and scream something else but doesn't trust his voice to do anything more that's coherent.

Anger's always the easier option above trying to figure anything else out that's liable to hurt.]