[The motion is enough for Mamoru to feel from where his knee is on Gen's chest to the space between both collarbones, where most of the torso's strength lingers when one tries to pull themselves up. The motion could seem like a stroke, really, had Mamoru not snarled angrily and placed his weight even further (how's that for an old fat ass?) to make the kid uncoil from his own thrashing.
Of course, Gen nicks his head a bit as Mamoru leans in to do it. He draws back, the hit actually making his shades skew from the perch of the bridge and fall. That was dangerous; he could have broken his nose or worse.
The last thing he wants is a dislocated retina.
Still, his scarred eyes are glaring down at the kid as his hand slides from center to the shoulder that keeps wiggling about, steadies it down.]
You throw yourself into a fight when you're like this? [And well done, Gen. You got him winded, if not because Mamoru is truly pissed.] A half-assed fight like this is only a death wish.
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Of course, Gen nicks his head a bit as Mamoru leans in to do it. He draws back, the hit actually making his shades skew from the perch of the bridge and fall. That was dangerous; he could have broken his nose or worse.
The last thing he wants is a dislocated retina.
Still, his scarred eyes are glaring down at the kid as his hand slides from center to the shoulder that keeps wiggling about, steadies it down.]
You throw yourself into a fight when you're like this? [And well done, Gen. You got him winded, if not because Mamoru is truly pissed.] A half-assed fight like this is only a death wish.