"Bitch!" he spouts, then the equivalent in Russian, stomach in his throat and pain shooting through him. He doubles over but grits his teeth and struggles to straighten, hand going toward the other weapon strapped around one thunder thigh. His vision is slowly returning but instincts have kicked in and he's running on pure adrenaline.
"This again, hm? You really don't know when to quit, do you?"
He pants, hair sticking to his face and mouth. Stubble lines his jaw, which is still all clenched, bared teeth again. He's tired of the games, tired of holding back and giving her the opportunity to play the sweet little girl role.
Instead of turning to the gun, he grips her neck with his metal hand, fingers digging in on the sides as not to crush her windpipe (not unless he has to). He pushes his body hard against hers and tightens the grip a little.
no subject
"Bitch!" he spouts, then the equivalent in Russian, stomach in his throat and pain shooting through him. He doubles over but grits his teeth and struggles to straighten, hand going toward the other weapon strapped around one thunder thigh. His vision is slowly returning but instincts have kicked in and he's running on pure adrenaline.
"This again, hm? You really don't know when to quit, do you?"
He pants, hair sticking to his face and mouth. Stubble lines his jaw, which is still all clenched, bared teeth again. He's tired of the games, tired of holding back and giving her the opportunity to play the sweet little girl role.
Instead of turning to the gun, he grips her neck with his metal hand, fingers digging in on the sides as not to crush her windpipe (not unless he has to). He pushes his body hard against hers and tightens the grip a little.
"Neither do I."