[ His nerves spike when he feels that hard yank at the fabric of his shirt, knowing to expect a blow. Fine. He can take it. So Gen only grits his teeth as he reels his fist back for another punch --
and jerks to a halt only when faced by that question. ]
... that's what you're going to try to pull now? [ Gen gives a bark of laughter, a harsh and derisive noise. Though a keen eye might note the way it's breathless at the edges. Forced. ] You think I'm too weak to handle this shit?
[ Which isn't what Barnaby said, of course. At all. But it's all he can hear in that nauseating, cloying, surely insincere question Barnaby asks about his fucking conscience. It's enough to make his nerves crawl, and even when he aims another punch at Barnaby's face, it's sloppier this time. ]
no subject
and jerks to a halt only when faced by that question. ]
... that's what you're going to try to pull now? [ Gen gives a bark of laughter, a harsh and derisive noise. Though a keen eye might note the way it's breathless at the edges. Forced. ] You think I'm too weak to handle this shit?
[ Which isn't what Barnaby said, of course. At all. But it's all he can hear in that nauseating, cloying, surely insincere question Barnaby asks about his fucking conscience. It's enough to make his nerves crawl, and even when he aims another punch at Barnaby's face, it's sloppier this time. ]