[ He'll understand that distaste more when he thinks about it later, feel far less envious and more grimly sympathetic that Arcade had to be the one to do the dirty work. Even when Danse kills things at close range, it's only in these past couple months here that he hasn't been insulated from the gore by a suit of power armor, and even here, he's got a tire iron--he hasn't had to do it with his own body.
But it is what it is, and even though he's beginning to feel the pain--he's beaten and clawed enough of them himself to reap some benefits, but not as many--he can steel himself for one more pass. There are far fewer of them left to chase him now, a mercy, but when he leads them back to Arcade and leaps over his tail to leave the brains corralled within it, he staggers a little on the landing.
It's enough. The enemy seems, finally, to be retreating. His relieved laugh is out loud now, a coarse snarling bark that he hates to hear coming from his own throat, and he collapses back against the nearest truck to support himself, more fatigue than injury, finally feeling that battle-adrenaline beginning to wear off. ]
I don't want to imagine how ugly that could have gotten if you weren't here, Doc--
[ Still reflexive, but the cutoff and prompt mental correction, too, is tangible through the still-existing mental thread. Danse may still have his hangups about the intimacy of first-name terms, but it doesn't really get much more intimate in its way than "telepathically linked and the only thing keeping each other sane," so this seems like as good a time as any to let that go. ]
no subject
But it is what it is, and even though he's beginning to feel the pain--he's beaten and clawed enough of them himself to reap some benefits, but not as many--he can steel himself for one more pass. There are far fewer of them left to chase him now, a mercy, but when he leads them back to Arcade and leaps over his tail to leave the brains corralled within it, he staggers a little on the landing.
It's enough. The enemy seems, finally, to be retreating. His relieved laugh is out loud now, a coarse snarling bark that he hates to hear coming from his own throat, and he collapses back against the nearest truck to support himself, more fatigue than injury, finally feeling that battle-adrenaline beginning to wear off. ]
I don't want to imagine how ugly that could have gotten if you weren't here, Doc--
[ Still reflexive, but the cutoff and prompt mental correction, too, is tangible through the still-existing mental thread. Danse may still have his hangups about the intimacy of first-name terms, but it doesn't really get much more intimate in its way than "telepathically linked and the only thing keeping each other sane," so this seems like as good a time as any to let that go. ]
--Arcade.