[Until he hears a "yippie-ki-yay" out of her, he can't be sure she gives off that vibe either. But there's still lots of island– and lots of opportunity left for that.
The subtle title drop is a little bit of a surprise– but not as much of a surprise as the sudden reticence. Maybe she's no Bruce Willis, but he hadn't exactly taken her for a shrinking violet either. Uncomfortable with the insinuation of glory or prestige. So if she's not in this to put a feather in her cap, then perhaps it's for the cause. Just someone trying to do right in the world, as is the cliché (but who is he to talk?)
Trust is a commodity – and these days, he has very little of it to throw around – but maybe he'd be able to find some to spare for someone like her.]
I'll tone down the cuteness, but only because you asked. [He says, with a solemnity that – coming from anyone else – would be practically comical.
(As it is, Adam's a bit of a harder read– but something that could almost be mistaken for a smile tugs at one corner of his mouth...)
He briefly considers making another comment (something suitably charming, like "we'll be fine as long as you don't weigh more than a dumpster") but something tells him she absolutely would make good on her threats – you know, all four of them that he's received in the last ten seconds – if he gives her an excuse to. And no one needs to see a grown man cry today. So he doesn't hesitate taking the proffered rope, unlooping it and folding it in half, wrapping his portion around one arm, and grasping it tightly before tossing the two ends over the precipice. His particular model of cyberlimb might not be as obviously built for heavy lifting as some Augs' were – more like a performance machine and less like a piece of demolition equipment – but Sarif's work was known for form without sacrificing function. In the absence of any trees or solid anchors on this barren cliffside, he'll do just as well as any boulder.
Hunkering down on one knee a few feet away from the edge of the cliff, he nods at her.]
After action reports are enough of a pain to write without having to explain why I dropped a founding member of the BSAA off the edge of a cliff. So consider yourself safe.
[Ha ha! Of course that's a joke! He never writes his after action reports.]
there is enough brobocop for all the sad hungry british orphans
The subtle title drop is a little bit of a surprise– but not as much of a surprise as the sudden reticence. Maybe she's no Bruce Willis, but he hadn't exactly taken her for a shrinking violet either. Uncomfortable with the insinuation of glory or prestige. So if she's not in this to put a feather in her cap, then perhaps it's for the cause. Just someone trying to do right in the world, as is the cliché (but who is he to talk?)
Trust is a commodity – and these days, he has very little of it to throw around – but maybe he'd be able to find some to spare for someone like her.]
I'll tone down the cuteness, but only because you asked. [He says, with a solemnity that – coming from anyone else – would be practically comical.
(As it is, Adam's a bit of a harder read– but something that could almost be mistaken for a smile tugs at one corner of his mouth...)
He briefly considers making another comment (something suitably charming, like "we'll be fine as long as you don't weigh more than a dumpster") but something tells him she absolutely would make good on her threats – you know, all four of them that he's received in the last ten seconds – if he gives her an excuse to. And no one needs to see a grown man cry today. So he doesn't hesitate taking the proffered rope, unlooping it and folding it in half, wrapping his portion around one arm, and grasping it tightly before tossing the two ends over the precipice. His particular model of cyberlimb might not be as obviously built for heavy lifting as some Augs' were – more like a performance machine and less like a piece of demolition equipment – but Sarif's work was known for form without sacrificing function. In the absence of any trees or solid anchors on this barren cliffside, he'll do just as well as any boulder.
Hunkering down on one knee a few feet away from the edge of the cliff, he nods at her.]
After action reports are enough of a pain to write without having to explain why I dropped a founding member of the BSAA off the edge of a cliff. So consider yourself safe.
[Ha ha! Of course that's a joke! He never writes his after action reports.]