Even through two layers of kevlar, as soon as he takes her hand she can feel what she hadn't been able to from his hand on the unyielding plate of her armor. He may be keeping it together on the surface, might not be clutching his hands to his head or speaking in someone else's voice, but Wash is far from okay. The knowledge makes fear and concern spike in her gut, and she squeezes his hand instinctively, doing her best to reassure him. She has to suppress the urge to lean heavily against his side, seeking comfort and giving it at once, as she would have with Max or Varric. This isn't either of them. This is Wash, and...well, it wouldn't do much good through the armor, anyway.

But she has to do something. She tilts her head up to him, trying to give him an encouraging smile. Difficult, when she can't tell if she's really looking in the right place, when she can't tell if he's looking at her at all.

"We'll find it." They have to. But more than that... "I trust you."