He feels ready to crawl out of his skin. He's tired, body and soul in a way that he's pretty sure isn't going to go away. This is just how he is now. His expression is carefully flat if Maine gets a look, and mostly his gaze is fixed on the top of the table just in front of Maine. Easy enough to see movement then, without needing to look at him and figure out what's going on.

What can he even say? If this is Maine, Maine before everything went wrong, then... what happens now? He's not the same person he was then. Freelancer is gone. The war is over. And Wash is a fugitive hiding with a group of idiots who should probably want him dead.

"You're right. I normally look worse."