ike-knox:
She watched him, arms crossing over chest in a way which foranyone other than herself may have been a display of resignation—of a minimizationof threat, but for Ike—no, this was mere a play into her overconfidence. Herreaction times were quick, that she knew and so she held no fear for the otherman. No fear for putting herself physically at a disadvantage by closing up herframe. Dark eyes swept over his features as a singular brow rose at his words.I’m on patrol—so literal, she near rolled her eyes at that.
“Were you formerly military or pig?” she asked then, findingthe clarification tedious though her curiosity in the matter would guide herwords. He was too paranoid to be some simple man, his confidence with hisweapon—despite the reality of their present world—no it all sort of spoketo something more for her.
Ike’s eyes moved passed him at his question, looking overhis head in the direction of the place he was physically trying to hide behindhis body—a small attempt, though one all the same, and the woman had to admitshe appreciated his protectiveness at the very least. Could get himkilled—those that aren’t his family. “Merely walking by,” she told him, whichwas perhaps partially true for for the moment she had been simply doing as suchthough there was a plan for something more. “Is Rambo usually this paranoid?” Intelligent?
Despite his previous position, and his skill when it came to combat and firearms, Nicholas was a calm man. Kind and often willing to compromise. That much was apparent when it came to living in the same camp with him. He would often send others on patrol to sleep, or avoid his own rest to help someone else if it was in need. There was, of course, his own reasons. Festering guilt, an inability to sleep without seeing someones face in his mind, some deep-seated need to atone for whatever slight he'd caused in his past. But no one knew that, and it didn't mean his attempts to help weren't genuine.
However, he could also be stubborn and unmoving. Particularly when it came to his past. That much alone showed as the woman asked once more, using those terms, to what he once was. His jaw tensed, the softness in his features hardening as his gaze met hers. Unerringly, his eyes didn't deter, and for a moment seemed cold, shifting his features entirely as he refused to speak or acknowledge her question. After a moment, when he spoke, it was as if she'd asked nothing at all.
"Walking by." He mused, glancing around. "Bit out of the way for most places, but alright." Though his words seemed to concede, it was clear he hadn't. As she compared him to Rambo, he inclined his head, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. "Usually people choose someone from England to compare me to when they're being clever." Another deflection. “Merely doing my job.”
