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[milkbonesoldier]

You know how there's all sorts of movies with pirates plugging scurvy dogs through the heart or the head or whatever despite only having one eye? Or sword-fighting like Errol Flynn at his finest without so much as disturbing their eyepatch

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[md_donighal]

At some point, he may notice a familiar smell of distant fires and rotten metal. If and when he turns to look, he'll see that the man in the gray suit, leaning against one of the nearby trees, does indeed have his arms folded as shown, but he looks sympathetic, not sulky.

[milkbonesoldier]

Oh, he picks up the smell soon enough. The gun he's using is matt black, soundless and scentless no matter what ammunition he loads it with- a gift from a friend. It's only a matter of the wind shifting around right before he notices.

"Donighal," he offers by way of greeting. "I hear we owe you a debt of gratitude."

[md_donighal]

Michael bows. "Your man Greene certainly does. Andrew successfully gold-dusted the lesser Cybermen, but the Cyber Leader - at least, I assume that's what he was - seems to've been insulated against that sort of thing, so I had to induce spontaneous combustion."

[milkbonesoldier]

Wells grunts. "Black handles?" he asks, indicating the space around his head. "That's what got me. Only one out of a hundred and fifty that I know of that didn't go down when I hit him with the gold suspension. I'd've paid to see one of 'em burn, frankly."

[md_donighal]

A nod. "Black handles, yes. Sorry I didn't think to make a recording; I'm sure it'd be cathartic, especially with you having to wait through most of the waxing cycle like this."

[milkbonesoldier]

"It's all right. Christine got the fucker's head for me. Once I've got the soft bits identified I'm getting the ashes back to his family and keeping the metal part as a warning to anything else that might try walking up to my door." He grimaces. "Right now I could just do without the damned itching."

[md_donighal]

Wince. "I can just about imagine. Makes me feel kind've bad about my powers, though not as bad as the times I've actually used them for evil." The Beacon Mal's canon doesn't specify whether he's ever done so, but he could quite possibly regrow lost bits with an idle (or not so idle) thought. "And it must be handy to have an expert on trophies like Cre'hktdi." Having now heard her name pronounced, he once again summons a pair of hitodama to make the necessary clicks and pops.

[milkbonesoldier]

Wells waves a hand vaguely. "Nothing for you to feel bad about. At least I know it's growing back, eh? The night I got infected I had no fucking clue if I was gonna make it through the hour, let alone the night. I'll manage."

He gives a bit of a smile and notes, "She does make it easier for Spoon. The head's the only trophy I've taken from the battlefield. I reckon it's the only one I'm ever likely to need."

[md_donighal]

"Might be safest. You don't need the hunt to keep the wolf at bay; I gather Spoon does, or at least it works for him."

[milkbonesoldier]

"Yeah, it does, it really does," says Wells. "Having rules about what to kill, how to kill, how to treat it once you've brought it down- that makes a hell of a difference for him. Brings it all into a nice, safe, restricted context, y'know?"