[ His body jerks when he hears Abel calling his name, a stutter-stop before he straightens almost mechanically. He looks back over his shoulder at Abel, regarding him with something almost wild in his eyes, the whites of them on full display. The only emotion that comes to him naturally is anger, and though it feels like a lot of it has been sapped from him it's still there.
He could comply. Drop Rand right to the ground and turn on Abel, take two Pleroma back with him. Amos' mind races as it works to reboot itself properly, trying to analyze the situation: he's got time, because in all likelihood Abel won't strike first. He has felt Abel's anger firsthand, so he needs to take him seriously. And he doesn't yet know the damage to his hands — just that they hurt like hell, and he is definitely losing blood from what he can identify now as literally grabbing a sword — and they're his primary weapons.
He's probably fucked if he goes for Abel too, but he has to try. It's just as he reaches that decision — just as he's about to drop Rand's deadweight like a sack of potatoes — that Gray is suddenly there, and oh, thank fuck. He has no idea what she can do, but the fact that she got there as quick as she did bodes well.
Amos doesn't take his eyes off Abel as he answers her. ]
Not exactly. Think I hit my limit with this one. [ A slight shrug of his shoulder indicating Rand. There's an edge to his voice, tense and filled with pain. ] Think you can handle him?
[ Because he likes Abel. Or maybe liked would be the better word; he's not sure now, because there's only one reason Abel would be around here, and it's a reason that puts them directly at odds.
He's gotta be dealt with, and as much as Amos doesn't like it, it might have to fall to Gray. ]
no subject
He could comply. Drop Rand right to the ground and turn on Abel, take two Pleroma back with him. Amos' mind races as it works to reboot itself properly, trying to analyze the situation: he's got time, because in all likelihood Abel won't strike first. He has felt Abel's anger firsthand, so he needs to take him seriously. And he doesn't yet know the damage to his hands — just that they hurt like hell, and he is definitely losing blood from what he can identify now as literally grabbing a sword — and they're his primary weapons.
He's probably fucked if he goes for Abel too, but he has to try. It's just as he reaches that decision — just as he's about to drop Rand's deadweight like a sack of potatoes — that Gray is suddenly there, and oh, thank fuck. He has no idea what she can do, but the fact that she got there as quick as she did bodes well.
Amos doesn't take his eyes off Abel as he answers her. ]
Not exactly. Think I hit my limit with this one. [ A slight shrug of his shoulder indicating Rand. There's an edge to his voice, tense and filled with pain. ] Think you can handle him?
[ Because he likes Abel. Or maybe liked would be the better word; he's not sure now, because there's only one reason Abel would be around here, and it's a reason that puts them directly at odds.
He's gotta be dealt with, and as much as Amos doesn't like it, it might have to fall to Gray. ]