03-07-2014, 09:55 PM
They met up, and what the pair they made. Torri felt ridiculous beside Michael, but every lingering gaze she caught was met with a sharp glare in return. She and Michael knew what they were about, and that was good enough for her, but she never thought she'd miss scrubs.
Merchants delivering grain a few kilometres away? She inwardly groaned. Let there be a transport involved beyond her own two legs. She'd definitely not slept enough last night for unplanned marches under the desert sun.
She looked to him when Michael hesitated. If he sensed her inner monologue, he was better at reading people than she thought. Torri could keep a straight face watching Peter Pan fly in with the news Neverland was real. The talent was earned by years of getting her ass chewed for one reason or another. Her smooth apathy was honed a little further every time she called a time of death. Bend or break were the only options, and she would never break.
His plan spurned her to glance at the case of liquid nitrogen. It was sealed safely away, but she could still sense the bubbling hiss that was released when the lid was removed from the canister. Tossing a jug of the stuff on a cloud of mist actually sounded pretty cool, but if that thing was any closer to Michael than she'd witnessed previously, there was a serious chance that the nitrogen would douse him too, and that simply would not go well for him.
She was about to voice the concern when he shut her off with a raised palm. She blinked. Suddenly taking orders from you? Am I?
It was a 'nice' sentiment he shared. After she'd saved his life. Twice. And she was risking her neck to do it again. But it was her job. He may not intend on sacrificing himself for her, but that didn't mean the opposite was untrue. She'd not leave him at the mercy of that thing. Not if she had a choice. Damn if she were telling him that, though.
"Understood."
She swiped her wrist with the implanted chip at the base's final security check, and together, they greeted the open desert of Mecca.
In the shade of her headdress, she almost broke a grim smile. "Lead on."
Merchants delivering grain a few kilometres away? She inwardly groaned. Let there be a transport involved beyond her own two legs. She'd definitely not slept enough last night for unplanned marches under the desert sun.
She looked to him when Michael hesitated. If he sensed her inner monologue, he was better at reading people than she thought. Torri could keep a straight face watching Peter Pan fly in with the news Neverland was real. The talent was earned by years of getting her ass chewed for one reason or another. Her smooth apathy was honed a little further every time she called a time of death. Bend or break were the only options, and she would never break.
His plan spurned her to glance at the case of liquid nitrogen. It was sealed safely away, but she could still sense the bubbling hiss that was released when the lid was removed from the canister. Tossing a jug of the stuff on a cloud of mist actually sounded pretty cool, but if that thing was any closer to Michael than she'd witnessed previously, there was a serious chance that the nitrogen would douse him too, and that simply would not go well for him.
She was about to voice the concern when he shut her off with a raised palm. She blinked. Suddenly taking orders from you? Am I?
It was a 'nice' sentiment he shared. After she'd saved his life. Twice. And she was risking her neck to do it again. But it was her job. He may not intend on sacrificing himself for her, but that didn't mean the opposite was untrue. She'd not leave him at the mercy of that thing. Not if she had a choice. Damn if she were telling him that, though.
"Understood."
She swiped her wrist with the implanted chip at the base's final security check, and together, they greeted the open desert of Mecca.
In the shade of her headdress, she almost broke a grim smile. "Lead on."