"I'm not looking to fight you," Wash establishes as Rinzler's stance shifts, the program clearly annoyed all over again--but Wash isn't going to get out of the way as easily as he'd let go of Rinzler's arm. He will fight if he needs to, if it means getting the stubborn fucking program pinned down and still, and answering some damn questions already.

At least he gets some form of answer in Rinzler's reaction to the uttering of the name Clu. It's easy to notice the way the name hits him, and Wash has to take that as a 'yes'. There's no other way to read it. His own hands clenching into fists, the ex-Freelancer takes notice of the lack of batons and his eyes narrow further. First Rinzler's disks, now his batons? Where are all of his weapons going and why are they going anywhere?

"It was, wasn't it?" He questions, eyes darting back up to Rinzler's helmet. At least he hasn't been reprogrammed, but this is hardly any better. Jesus. "What did he do? I swear to god, I'll go find him and ask him myself if I have to." And in realizing finally that Rinzler can't exactly type any answer given one arm is missing, Wash brings up his MID, opens up the keyboard, and turns it (somewhat awkwardly) in Rinzler's direction to give him a way to answer and to show that he is, indeed, serious about this.