Another little snort of amusement is Maine's response to "polite." He's not offended by Wash's opinion of the place. It's technologically barren, and its dusty state makes it apparent that Maine hasn't put any real work into it. Not yet, at least. Now that Wash is here, that'll have to change.

He needs to fortify this place. Needs to make sure that it's as protected as possible.

Maine grunts and shakes his head, brown eyes on the kindling he's working to ignite. "Strangers," he explains.

While Maine doesn't fear them, he sure as shit doesn't want to sleep near a bunch of people whose motivations he doesn't know. Besides, Maine's never been a social creature. Sticking to the edges of things — be it a team or a civilization — is what he knows.

Once the kindling catches, Maine sits back on his heels and looks at his friend. "Just us."

They're the only Freelancers here. As far as Maine knows, there's no one else from their universe at all.