prompt post: round six

[soldierly]

ROUND SIX IS CLOSED

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Fill: I know how this ends 01a/?

[anonymous]

Charles swept the tip of his tongue against his lower lip, eyes darting from the man and the door that he stood in front of. His briefcase was then ripped from his free hand, it sudden enough to catch Charles by surprise. He lunged after it without a second thought, the movement causing his skin to catch between the metal links of his watchband. Charles bit down on his tongue, cutting off a sound of pain that was threatening to escape him. There was a throbbing warmth encircling his wrist; Charles wondered if he was bleeding.

He watched as his briefcase - leather, polished silver clasps - was guided towards the other man, and remained silent as he slipped his hand beneath the handle and held it by his side.

Charles smiled, small and tight, teeth clenched together. “Impressive,” he said, “where in the world did they find you?”

The man adjusted his grip on the briefcase. “It doesn’t matter. All that does is that I've got you.”

“Well,” Charles said, glancing to his trapped arm. He grimaced when he saw that he had been right; he was bleeding.

“You aren’t wrong there, my friend,” he continued, turning his attention back to the man before him.

His smile took a turn then, shifting from something almost wild to an expression more pleasant, neutral. Charles was glad when the man seemed to be aware of the shift. He straightened, shoulders pulling back as he adjusted his weight, bracing his body for an attack.

“But you forget that your helmet only protects only yourself,” Charles indicated with his chin, his words almost lost between a flurry of feet coming down the hall.

The man threw a surprised look to the source of the sound, and Charles wished that he wasn’t wearing the silly helmet, if just to catch the sharp edge of the man’s surprise. It was a shame, he thought, watching as the crowd of employees spilled into the small room, the sheer number overwhelming the other man completely.

Charles didn’t linger on the thought, turning his body in order to unclip his watch. He wriggled his wrist through the smaller than usual circle, lip caught between his teeth as the movement grated the fresh ring of cuts. He was out of there before the man could overcome the men and women Charles had sent, briefcase in hand and the sleeve of his left arm pulled tight over his wrist.