“Wash.”

“Hmmm?”

“Wash.”

“Shut up a minute, I’m workin’.”

“Wash!”

Wash sighed and looked over to York’s face, five inches from his own and whisper-yelling in his ear. “Fucking what?”

“Are you seriously trying to break into a tiger cage?” York’s eyes were having through focusing on Wash’s face of thought, and he was quietly swaying back and forth on his heels in an alcohol-induced temporary inner ear problem.

“I’m not,” Wash slurred proudly. “I’m trying to break into - into - I’m trying to free Calvin.”

“Who’s Calvin?”

“The tiger they’ve got locked up in this cage.”

York stared at his very drunk friend, frowning gracelessly through his own haze of alcohol. “Lemme try again. Are you failing to break into a fucking tiger’s cage which has a combination lock a child could pick apart?”

Wash looked from York’s face to the offending metal barrier in question and sighed tiredly. “Fine, Mr. Infal-infel-inter-inf… Mr. Lock Guy, you do it.”

York huffed in importance and knelt down next to the lock, listening to it as he turned the number dial before straightening up and frowning at his companion. “I’m not going to break into this cage so you can steal this tiger, Wash.”

“Libari-liberati-libetari… free. I’m going to free him, and his name is Calvin.”

“Why the fuck is he named Calvin?”

“So we can play Calvinball.” Wash pushed York’s shoulder out of the way and went back to twisting the numbers on the lock at random with no show of effort to actually make the item yield.

“You’re going to make him into a ball?” York said slowly, looking around at the dark abandoned zoo and slowly remembering that he was the one who broke the main lock and disabled the alarm on the door when they stumbled in half an hour ago.

“No, that’s not how you play Calvinball,” Wash dismissed, letting himself be pulled to his feet by his friend who is slowly remembering more and more of how much shit they’re going to get for this tomorrow morning.

“How do you play it, then,” York asked because sometimes, there were more pressing questions than unpleasant consequences.

“Well,” Wash said knowingly and with an unsteady finger pointed at York’s nose. “First, you need a Calvin.”

York stared at the man he was leaning on and holding up simultaneously, then scoffed through a smile. “Well, we’re not getting one tonight, buddy. We gotta go, Niner is picking us up tomorrow morning.”

“But my tiger…”

“There’s no room on the pelican, Wash. You know how Niner gets when we don’t follow her flight plan.”

Wash seemed to have sobered up for a moment as he remembered the last time Niner had yelled at him. It was two weeks ago. “There’s no way we’d be able to add a passenger to her roster without twenty-four hours notice.”

“Yep,” York encouraged, patting Wash on the chest, the biggest target he could reach.

“I’ll be back for you,” Wash told the sleeping predator, and let himself be led away from the breaking and entering crime scene.