Their cabin had come equipped with a double bed, and Wash had insisted they share it rather than utilizing the cot, pointing out that the bed was larger and so was Cage. Cage told himself that it was because the berth was sturdier to chain him to than the cot would have been and that Wash was just being smart rather than kind, but he sort of doubted it. Wash just struck him as that type of man. Cage hadn’t known many truly good-hearted men in his life. He was having trouble reconciling it. The very distinct sound of something thumping onto the main deck one level below them startled him out of his thoughts and he raised his head, trying to hear. “Something wrong?” Wash asked from his spot on the other side of the bed. Cage glanced over at him in the darkness, scowling at him. “Sorry,” Wash offered abashedly as he rolled up onto his elbow and reached for the hurricane lamp. He turned it, making the shadows in the room dance as the flame grew bigger. “Keep forgettin’ you can’t answer,” he muttered as the flame flickered to life and enabled Cage to be able to see him better.
