[William sits down. He is pretty much done right now, sweat laking on the back of his neck, shiny on his forehead, exhaustion seeping through every sinew in his lanky frame. Fights don't last longer than a couple minutes at absolute best, in the real world, and he's of half a mind to complain about that, except she's asking him something now.
He blinks wearily at approximately the height of her hip, an exhausted msile flickering over his face like a guttering gas flame.
He doesn't suspect anything behind her question, and Guangtou doesn't point it out to him.] If the Commander doesn't let me go on this fuckin' safari, I'm going to be gutted, [he tells her. He is thinking of the far-off hallways, repeating walls that give way to poorer-kept floors, odd tracks in the dust, the crawling fear that waits-- along with the novelty of regions finally unknown. He doesn't have illusions about finding paradise about the Tranquility, but he certainly lacks the imagination the ship doubtless has. He pants.] --maybe not by manticores, though.
[In his head, manticores are green. And have scales. Anderson has the impression of a smile, fleeting.]
your hand waves so gently
He blinks wearily at approximately the height of her hip, an exhausted msile flickering over his face like a guttering gas flame.
He doesn't suspect anything behind her question, and Guangtou doesn't point it out to him.] If the Commander doesn't let me go on this fuckin' safari, I'm going to be gutted, [he tells her. He is thinking of the far-off hallways, repeating walls that give way to poorer-kept floors, odd tracks in the dust, the crawling fear that waits-- along with the novelty of regions finally unknown. He doesn't have illusions about finding paradise about the Tranquility, but he certainly lacks the imagination the ship doubtless has. He pants.] --maybe not by manticores, though.
[In his head, manticores are green. And have scales. Anderson has the impression of a smile, fleeting.]