[ cassian had guessed that vash would understand. call it, perhaps, a hunch. but he's already seem too many coincidences around this man to actually believe them for coincidence.
he huffs out a soft breath, almost a scoff, at the instruction — WHO IS HE GOING TO KILL HERE, HE'S ALONE — and watches vash leave with the man until they round a corner, out of view. getting vash to leave without him had been the gamble; there's no question in this mind that a man like this would come back for him. that's why he'd folded it into his instructions, and into his plan. suggesting vash do otherwise would only incite a different argument, waste time, for likely the same result.
instead, he finally allows himself a low hiss through his teeth, staggers backwards until he's inside a nearby alley, moves towards an overhang he'd seen from a distance. not a large one, but more protection than none. the cataloguing of his pain, his apparent injury, is a cold, clinical thing. none of it makes sense, but that's so often been the case in kenos. he hasn't felt this bad since —
since.
that pulls him up short. raises the question, again, of what the hell the snow is doing; but with more of an answer, reconsidered in this context. he
hurries over to that relative shelter, where he can let himself slide to the ground. and keep an eye out for vash, if the blighted weather doesn't stop his return. ]
no subject
he huffs out a soft breath, almost a scoff, at the instruction — WHO IS HE GOING TO KILL HERE, HE'S ALONE — and watches vash leave with the man until they round a corner, out of view. getting vash to leave without him had been the gamble; there's no question in this mind that a man like this would come back for him. that's why he'd folded it into his instructions, and into his plan. suggesting vash do otherwise would only incite a different argument, waste time, for likely the same result.
instead, he finally allows himself a low hiss through his teeth, staggers backwards until he's inside a nearby alley, moves towards an overhang he'd seen from a distance. not a large one, but more protection than none. the cataloguing of his pain, his apparent injury, is a cold, clinical thing. none of it makes sense, but that's so often been the case in kenos. he hasn't felt this bad since —
since.
that pulls him up short. raises the question, again, of what the hell the snow is doing; but with more of an answer, reconsidered in this context. he
hurries over to that relative shelter, where he can let himself slide to the ground. and keep an eye out for vash, if the blighted weather doesn't stop his return. ]