Where most others in camp who had inhaled the drugs pumped through the ventialtion system last night were having a less extreme reaction to the chemical compound Ethan was struggling. You see the thing is he's a man who is excellent at keeping his emotions in check and putting on that cool, calm facade to everyone else and then going to the gym and
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The tree, finally felled, lays on the ground whilst Ethan and Mayspring are surrounded by fallen leaves, twigs and other foliage. "What the hell were you doing in that tree!?"
Ethan berates Mayspring as he sets her down on her feet and pats his hands down across her body to check for injury. He might be on the verge of fuming but he still can't help his military ingrained response to check that she is alright and uninjured.
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"One has the right, you see, to wonder, just why you'd wake her from her slumber. It's plain to see, for those who're me, that something is not as it should really be." And she wasn't having some strange insight into the state of his mind; no. She was meaning her tree. On its side. In pieces.
Ophelia was miffed. And a miffed off empath was trouble. Raising her gauze covered hand -burnt from a kitchen incident not a few days before, Ophelia pointed an accusing finger, "You killed it dead, but it didn't bleed red. How cruel a fate for a nature mate. It's not right to rage on that one darling page. Shall rest the soul of one fine bark, forever stolen from man and park."
She'd have a burial next week if she could.
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He's not even trying to be funny, he just can't be bothered to even go down the route of working out why Mayspring would be so upset over the tree. Other than the fact being she had been sat in it at the time. Which yeah, he could normally understand why she migth be just a little bit miffed at his actions. ANYWAY!
Barely giving the tree another glance Ethan lowers his arms from across his chest and repeats the same clench and unclench action over and over as he waits for Ophelia to say something. He's trying to remind himself why killing a team mate is a really bad idea.
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He was standing there beating up a tree. It was so hard not to laugh but Betsy got the distinct impression that laughing would only piss him off further so she swallowed it down leaving only a hint of a smile on her face.
"I think Greenpeace would have something to say about that, luv." Dammit. She couldn't help herself.
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He doesn't know what it is right now, still too focused on that urge to kick ass and then some. "I don't give two fucks what Greenpeace think. It's my camp, which makes these my trees so I'll do whatever I like Braddock."
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Without thinking, she took a step forward. She really didn't want to get thrown in the brig again but she just couldn't help but poke the bear and test his dominance. "Tree can't fight back though, can it? Perhaps you'd have a go at someone a little more... spry."
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Raising an eyebrow Ethan chuckles and moves in closer to Braddock, hands shoved into the pockets of his combats as he leans in closer. "You offering?"
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"What the hell?!" She shouted, hands out defensively. Unaware that she was under the influence of a chemical that increased her already high levels of caution and suspicion, she couldn't help the wave of energy that burst from her hands toward Sykes with enough force not to shread him apart, but to knock over a couple of trees in the process.
...And if she wasn't on this drug right now, she'd apologize. Profusely.
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Any other time and he might have apologised too, made small talk and an effort to come across as the military man he is but now? He just growls out his response. "What the hell Captain. You'll do well to remember to respect your superiors."
He glances around at the felled trees and raises an eyebrow. Oh he's impressed though a part of him is registering this as possibly a threat. A fight. Which he might just need to respond to.
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Fingers curling in slightly, causing the material of her gloves to creak, Haylie took a deep breath. Her pulse spiked, her chest tightened, and her body was on fire. If threatened, she wouldn't hesitate to remove the gloves and start blowing shit up.
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"Back. Down. Now Collins." And he meant it. Back down or he'd take her down, one way or another.
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Had Ethan known about the accusations he would have laughed them off, in Victor's face too for that matter. Still would now if Victor brought them up. Instead he's curious as to why Victor is pissing all over the place when there are perfectly decent toilet facilities available.
"You not been house trained yet Creed?" Leaning against the trunk of the nearest tree Ethan watches Victor. Taking in the way that the feral prowls, body tense and eyes narrowed. Ethan knows a threat when he sees one and what he is seeing right here is Victor posturing. Daring to try and assert his authority.
Pfft. Pathetic.
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For all his latent homophobia, he wasn't above making a joke like that if there was a chance it could make someone else feel uncomfortable.
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"Anyway I'd rather not run the risk of catching anything you've got Creed." Ethan thankfully has also seen worse, training and living with military types for most of his life. Living in shit conditions under fire also means you get up close and personal with your team mates pretty quickly. Though normally, Ethan would probably threaten Victor with punishment rather than engaged him in a verbal fight.
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Glancing at Christoffel he finally acknowledged her presence with more than just the halting of his actions. "I was merely utilising the resources available to me Christoffel. It was either that or a living and breathing person which would be highly inappropriate."
Tone gruff and posture still tense at least Ethan was talking rather than just hitting out.
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"My hands are fine anyway." Ethan raised one arm to show that he had not been harmed at all from his temper tantrum. Infact it looked as if nothing had gone on. "I just didn't want to have to damage equipment qithout justifiable cause."
Why he was explaining himself to Christoffel was still an area of puzzlement for the Captain too. At least she was getting him to talk first rather than act first.
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