O fuk please no. William sees a man with a gun and makes a split-second effort to stop that turns into a scrambling, loose-joined effort to flee. He doesn't know shit about Grimes, but the last time a white guy came at him with a gun, you know.
The fact that William is in an unfamiliar uniform of his own may or may not be reassuring, a flash of dark green and gold as he tumbles off behind another pod, elbow up, eyes big in his head, his peculiarly anachronistic 90's sneakers squeaking on the floor. His whole face says holy shit but not out loud, some part of his brain that happens to be working independently of the skittery lizard functions thinking that the guailo's gun looks kind of different, very vintage, that's interesting, from far away and off the trajectory.
He hits one or two things on the way to stuffing himself behind a desk-height projection from the wall, hard enough to bruise but nothing worse than that. Winds up squinting against either the cold lights or oncoming bullets.
no subject
The fact that William is in an unfamiliar uniform of his own may or may not be reassuring, a flash of dark green and gold as he tumbles off behind another pod, elbow up, eyes big in his head, his peculiarly anachronistic 90's sneakers squeaking on the floor. His whole face says holy shit but not out loud, some part of his brain that happens to be working independently of the skittery lizard functions thinking that the guailo's gun looks kind of different, very vintage, that's interesting, from far away and off the trajectory.
He hits one or two things on the way to stuffing himself behind a desk-height projection from the wall, hard enough to bruise but nothing worse than that. Winds up squinting against either the cold lights or oncoming bullets.