Leon leans his weight on one leg, hands on his hips. He nods his head to-and-fro as if to say he agrees, more or less.
"Not bad. Could have been worse."
His comfortable stance betrays the fact his chest is still rising and falling too heavily to really be at ease; his breathing is finally returning to normal.
Krauser's either less winded, or better at hiding it; anyone's guess. (Or he was experienced enough to grab a breather in one of the little chances.)
"When I heard Sam's cable start to tear free I thought it had all gone to shit. Nice catch on the demolitions gear, by the way." He shakes his head. "He always double-checks before he heads down. Never thought that would happen to him." He reaches up, turning his head sharply to pop his neck, and then settles down into a crouch by the fire, stripping off his gloves and reaching his hands to it. "First time for everything."
Leon looks sharply to the right and gives considerable pause; Krauser is a man he's still not comfortable using the last name or formal salutation of, for fear of reprimand. The compliment is welcome, sure, but still isn't unlike a swift jab to the solar plexus. Unexpected.
He crouches and then sits, if only because following Krauser's lead - even in something so small - is better than not. His legs are a little too long to stretch out and be close enough to the fire to be warm, so he folds them up and drapes his arms over them.
"Thanks." He says, finally, with a ghost of a laugh. He looks at the fire; once the wide-eyed looks of fear and reverence were wiped off his face, he looks a little older than the dawn of your twenties should. "Didn't really think about it, just... happened."
"Needed it by the end, didn't we?" Credit where credit's due. "Could have fucked us all over right at the start. Pity about the timer, but," he shrugs, "can't have everything."
Truly enough, Leon's a little... blinky. He looks over just in time to catch a swoosh of motion, though his vision is inexplicably blurry. He catches it well enough, and looks at it for a moment like he's having visions of the cases that could be made for justifiable, self-defense homicide standing right in front of him.
"Well... y-yeah." He says, and aims the pistol demonstratively. There's a photo-exposure splash of white in his field of vision, fading out and back in; he blinks back, much like an animal recoiling from a subtle, unpleasant smell. He looks over the barrel as if to say 'is this what you want me to show you? what else?'.
What else is the impact of a wrist against his, shoving the gun up, and an unmistakable pressure running a line straight up from above his navel to stop right under his ribs.
"The thing is," Krauser's moving, circling him, getting further away, "most people fall into the trap of 'since he'll have a gun too, he'll never get that close.' Then, when someone does. . . they can't adjust." He tosses the knife from one hand to another, trying to make Leon work a little to follow it. "I like these little chances to teach. Most people end up never being able to learn from it."
Leon, against his better training, finds himself trying to hurriedly pull the trigger, only to have the tendon in his index finger scream at him lessons about not trying to depress locked mechanisms so quickly. His wrist flicks up, towards him, and he almost loses the gun to the air; his grunt is one of surprise and confusion.
Leon looks down at his belly to survey the damage, splaying fingers over his shirt, watching for blood. None. He glances at the nigh-useless weapon, then back up at Krauser. He says nothing, but his face speaks louder than words could; '...I think I follow'.
Krauser's thinking of letting him take the safety off and check the chamber just so he can have fun trying to get a shot off. . . but the kid's got the point.
"Night like this, yeah. . . if something's escaped from the ruins and come after us, we'd want guns. But if either of the guys on watch catch something? I'm handing you the TMP, sending you to find the other, and going out there with this." He grins. "We'll do that again. Try the knife, this time."
Comments 53
"Not bad. Could have been worse."
His comfortable stance betrays the fact his chest is still rising and falling too heavily to really be at ease; his breathing is finally returning to normal.
"Points for creativity, at least."
Reply
"When I heard Sam's cable start to tear free I thought it had all gone to shit. Nice catch on the demolitions gear, by the way." He shakes his head. "He always double-checks before he heads down. Never thought that would happen to him." He reaches up, turning his head sharply to pop his neck, and then settles down into a crouch by the fire, stripping off his gloves and reaching his hands to it. "First time for everything."
Reply
He crouches and then sits, if only because following Krauser's lead - even in something so small - is better than not. His legs are a little too long to stretch out and be close enough to the fire to be warm, so he folds them up and drapes his arms over them.
"Thanks." He says, finally, with a ghost of a laugh. He looks at the fire; once the wide-eyed looks of fear and reverence were wiped off his face, he looks a little older than the dawn of your twenties should. "Didn't really think about it, just... happened."
Reply
Reply
"Well... y-yeah." He says, and aims the pistol demonstratively. There's a photo-exposure splash of white in his field of vision, fading out and back in; he blinks back, much like an animal recoiling from a subtle, unpleasant smell. He looks over the barrel as if to say 'is this what you want me to show you? what else?'.
Reply
"The thing is," Krauser's moving, circling him, getting further away, "most people fall into the trap of 'since he'll have a gun too, he'll never get that close.' Then, when someone does. . . they can't adjust." He tosses the knife from one hand to another, trying to make Leon work a little to follow it. "I like these little chances to teach. Most people end up never being able to learn from it."
Reply
Leon looks down at his belly to survey the damage, splaying fingers over his shirt, watching for blood. None. He glances at the nigh-useless weapon, then back up at Krauser. He says nothing, but his face speaks louder than words could; '...I think I follow'.
Reply
"Night like this, yeah. . . if something's escaped from the ruins and come after us, we'd want guns. But if either of the guys on watch catch something? I'm handing you the TMP, sending you to find the other, and going out there with this." He grins. "We'll do that again. Try the knife, this time."
Reply
Leave a comment