[Occam's Razor only applies as far as one considers that the simplest solution possible for some might not be the same for others. Standing on a couple of buttons doesn't account for the fact that, if you happen to be a walking juggernaut DPS tank of a Freelancer, just straight up smashing through the object in your way is usually the cheapest, most direct, and simplest solution.]

[Wash would be more inclined to agree with that assessment - that it's a stupidly simple solution, that it's a borderline insulting layout for a test for a couple of specialized weapons ops - if he weren't used to the low-tech version of events that have been achingly characteristic of everything on the damn archipelago.]

[If it's a Trial, what's it testing? He'd venture teamwork. But Maine - from his point of view, from what he last remembers, it would be unthinkable to him that his teammate would be afraid of him, would look at him and think of all the possible ways he nearly took Wash apart.]

[On the border of realization of some kind of dawning realization he doesn't want to have, Wash does what he's best at and shoves the growing knot of dread and understanding into a little box in the corner of his mind, compartmentalizing it down and thrusting it back and back where he can safely ignore it until it has something useful to say.]

I'd say "I can't believe it," but there are a lot of things I shouldn't believe that seem to be happening.

[A low mutter of agreement couched in an unnerved prickle chasing down his spine.]

At least this means we can go forward.