[Wash is starting to wonder where the hell York even is when he hears the shot. Shit. He tries to step to the side, but he doesn't know exactly where the shot's coming from, except that it's somewhere behind him, and he hasn't got a lot of time. Seconds, is all he has. So, as expected, he takes the hit. His movements kept it from hitting him square in the back, at least, but he feels the impact more off to the side off it. It hurts, causing him to grunt, and the paint quickly hardens, making it difficult to move his torso. Everything else is still working though, so, with a bit of difficulty, he turns himself around and hurries back the way he's come, knowing that York had obviously been behind him.]
no subject