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Connie had always hated her helmet. Wash knew it but he wondered if the insurrectionist ever did. Because if he had he wouldn’t have tried to carry on her memory by wearing it. He may have cared about her, but Wash wondered if he actually knew her at all.
Wash wondered if he’d known that she believed the first moon landing was faked. Or that she collected old maps. Or that she loved to drink hot chocolate and hated tea and liked to watch old TV shows. And she liked to sit with her legs crossed and a blanket pulled over her head so that sometimes only her eyes could be seen in the dark.
The more he thought about it, the more the anger built up in him. Because if he hadn’t remembered these little things that had made Connie his Connie, then Wash didn’t think the insurrectionist deserved to remember her at all.