[ Black smoke rolls out after him, like ink through water. The man in black resolves out of the thick of it, embers sizzling in wet grass, steam winding around his boots while he takes time to look down upon Chilton’s retreating be-hind. He leans to snag his flask up out from where it’s splashing tequila into the wreckage before he slips his knife off his belt. Cap’s probably a lost cause.
He can buy a new flask. ]
Hell of a spill, [ he remarks, as he draws up on Chilton’s flank.
One swig from his flask, and he sets a boot heel into the doctor’s ribs and gives it a stout little shove. ]
no subject
He can buy a new flask. ]
Hell of a spill, [ he remarks, as he draws up on Chilton’s flank.
One swig from his flask, and he sets a boot heel into the doctor’s ribs and gives it a stout little shove. ]
You sure you should be moving?