[ for the length of a few breaths, everything goes very still and very quiet.
this is because he's closed his eyes tightly and has ceased to move, like he's trying to stave away a migraine. it's a gesture of pure mental rejection, a visceral response to the annoying absurdity of that description, as well as to the prospect of foregoing buying his damn snacks in order to deal with the flamboyant homicidal maniac of the week. he sounds nasal, like he doesn't even want to say the words. ]
Best way I can describe it. A DIY suit, but I've seen cosplayers with better outfits. Why, does it ring a bell?
[ Most mercs and assassins she'd run into had been far better armed and armored, and didn't try to stand out too much. Unless this was deliberate, to throw them off? ]
Yeah, this loud one that goes off in my head whenever I'm about to be annoyed by an idiot.
[ when he opens his eyes, he looks a little murdery. but he ceases the poking and instead reaches for the gauze and tape to gently finish bandaging her up.
he starts pocketing her first aid supplies, because she said 'no stitches', but if she bleeds through he might have to insist. ]
For the road. [ yeah, there will be a quick fridge raid. first, he hovers, taking her arm to help her up, whether or not she needs it. ] Lemme know if you need any help.
[ She lets him help her up — it's too late to be stubborn and ungrateful now — but changing is tricky and she'd rather not risk things becoming awkward again. So she just assures him she'll manage and that she'll be back shortly.
It takes a bit longer than five minutes though. She doesn't hurt too badly, but she is throwing some clothes into a backpack, and she's had to dig through her closet for her older gear. One battered suit's better than nothing. Hopefully she won't have to use it. She also packs a book and a sketchpad, because of course she does. ]
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this is because he's closed his eyes tightly and has ceased to move, like he's trying to stave away a migraine. it's a gesture of pure mental rejection, a visceral response to the annoying absurdity of that description, as well as to the prospect of foregoing buying his damn snacks in order to deal with the flamboyant homicidal maniac of the week. he sounds nasal, like he doesn't even want to say the words. ]
A Victorian era costume?
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[ Most mercs and assassins she'd run into had been far better armed and armored, and didn't try to stand out too much. Unless this was deliberate, to throw them off? ]
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[ when he opens his eyes, he looks a little murdery. but he ceases the poking and instead reaches for the gauze and tape to gently finish bandaging her up.
he starts pocketing her first aid supplies, because she said 'no stitches', but if she bleeds through he might have to insist. ]
Let's get you changed and get out of here.
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Thanks. Yeah, give me five minutes. I got some snacks in the fridge if you want 'em, since I interrupted your shopping.
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It takes a bit longer than five minutes though. She doesn't hurt too badly, but she is throwing some clothes into a backpack, and she's had to dig through her closet for her older gear. One battered suit's better than nothing. Hopefully she won't have to use it. She also packs a book and a sketchpad, because of course she does. ]