The man about to lay into Radar—with a hand raised in a loose fist, but a fist all the same—is cut off when a hand grabs him hard by the back of his neck and yanks him backwards about a foot to stand right alongside the owner of that hand.
Namely, a visibly irate John Rambo, who is very carefully keeping a leash on the worst of his anger both because he knows Radar doesn’t like violence—and because the notion of showing this asshole a monster up close and personal by shifting is far too tempting.
He settles for the cold, dead, seething rage etched across his face and vibrating through every muscle as the guy in his grip actually squeals under John’s grip.
“No, you listen.” John replies, dangerously quiet but still audible beside the man’s ear. “You’re gonna shut the fuck up, head over to the temple, get on your hands and knees, and pray to the Mothers that the other farmers in this town will sell you eggs at a reasonable price, ‘cause you don’t make enough in a year to afford even one that rolls out of my ranch, you understand me?”
”You can’t—“
“You bet your ass I can, and I just did. What’s more, I’m really enjoying it.” John snarls just before abruptly releasing the man.
“Now relax—you got bigger problems than price gouging.”
Buk…buk buk bukbuk buk…
“Hey—HEY! That’s a library book!…”
John finally looks remorseful at that. Siebren will…probably not be happy when he hears John let Co wreck one of his books…
He just glances over at the table where she’s happily clawing away at the volume, daring the victim to touch her with a murderous glare before turning his attention to Radar with nothing but gentle concern.
“Hey, you all right?” John asks softly, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. And he is worried—knowing how close Radar is to Dahlia, to Laios…if he wasn’t already firmly convinced of the morality of standing behind her on principle alone, he’d defend her just for them…and probably with far less restraint.
you find me in the shadows and the shade
The man about to lay into Radar—with a hand raised in a loose fist, but a fist all the same—is cut off when a hand grabs him hard by the back of his neck and yanks him backwards about a foot to stand right alongside the owner of that hand.
Namely, a visibly irate John Rambo, who is very carefully keeping a leash on the worst of his anger both because he knows Radar doesn’t like violence—and because the notion of showing this asshole a monster up close and personal by shifting is far too tempting.
He settles for the cold, dead, seething rage etched across his face and vibrating through every muscle as the guy in his grip actually squeals under John’s grip.
“No, you listen.” John replies, dangerously quiet but still audible beside the man’s ear. “You’re gonna shut the fuck up, head over to the temple, get on your hands and knees, and pray to the Mothers that the other farmers in this town will sell you eggs at a reasonable price, ‘cause you don’t make enough in a year to afford even one that rolls out of my ranch, you understand me?”
”You can’t—“
“You bet your ass I can, and I just did. What’s more, I’m really enjoying it.” John snarls just before abruptly releasing the man.
“Now relax—you got bigger problems than price gouging.”
Buk…buk buk bukbuk buk…
“Hey—HEY! That’s a library book!…”
John finally looks remorseful at that. Siebren will…probably not be happy when he hears John let Co wreck one of his books…
He just glances over at the table where she’s happily clawing away at the volume, daring the victim to touch her with a murderous glare before turning his attention to Radar with nothing but gentle concern.
“Hey, you all right?” John asks softly, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. And he is worried—knowing how close Radar is to Dahlia, to Laios…if he wasn’t already firmly convinced of the morality of standing behind her on principle alone, he’d defend her just for them…and probably with far less restraint.