[ She tenses, too. Before having made it to the front, it would simply have been from the fear of being discovered; now it's in response to all manner of perceived threats. She's not sure how she can stand more of this, if she's being honest with herself. Still, her first thought is to grab him so she could turn them around and shield him. Her body can survive being shot. Probably. His, she's not willing to gamble.
He beats her to it, though, and for a second, bile rises in her throat. Then it's over. There's no threat. They're not being ambushed by their enemies in the night. He's still here, with her, and not on that cold metal table being put through God knows what or bleeding out against her with a hole in his chest.
It takes a moment for her to find her voice. She peers into his eyes, to anchor herself in them, but finds traces of her own fear reflected back at her instead. She swallows. Then she decides to quip, in an attempt at levity: ] Yeah, we should. You haven't thanked me properly for rescuing you, Sarge.
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He beats her to it, though, and for a second, bile rises in her throat. Then it's over. There's no threat. They're not being ambushed by their enemies in the night. He's still here, with her, and not on that cold metal table being put through God knows what or bleeding out against her with a hole in his chest.
It takes a moment for her to find her voice. She peers into his eyes, to anchor herself in them, but finds traces of her own fear reflected back at her instead. She swallows. Then she decides to quip, in an attempt at levity: ] Yeah, we should. You haven't thanked me properly for rescuing you, Sarge.