The COMM was closed before James could manage more than the startled beginnings of protest from the voice on the other end. Too much to consider now, and arguing would only distract him. Apologize later. He could feel the flush warmth of another at his back, and her shadow draped along his shoulders in a familiar tapestry of dread he donned with something of a smile. Bar fights, now this took him back.
“Nice to meet you too, Jen. Sorry it had to be like this.”
The surly crowd tightened together as the bolder of the throng neared, driven by the hurled calls for violence from the back. James’ smile grew rueful, and his grip on his blaster grew to a familiar firmness. Breathe–and the rush of a fight rushing to meet them roiled at the pit of his heart.
“Heh. Not that I need to be at this range,
but I’m a regular Annie Oakley with this blaster.”
He glanced back, and the flash of mismatched eyes found her above the brim of his sunglasses–ah, but only for a moment. She was hardly a shrinking mimsy–those scars were evidence of that fact ALONE. Focus.
“Yeah. No sweat.
I’ll back you up.”
The smile he offered her spoke multitudes of the kind of man James was, more than he could divulge to her in the moment - but then, she was exceedingly good at reading people. He'd gone through this kind of thing plenty before, she wagered, and a part of him maybe even enjoyed it.
"Alright then, Annie.
Go time."
To say she didn't mirror his self-assured, somewhat grim smile would be a lie.
For the most part, Jen was someone who preferred to stay out of fights. By her very skill set she was practised at avoiding conflict, both out of necessity and out of desire. Whether it was going unnoticed, talking people down, or intimidating them out of a conflict, if a tactic got her out of fisticuffs, and could be employed in a situation, she would employ it.
But there was an undeniable RUSH to sending her fist careening into the face of an overly-confident hog as she sprang forward and unwound her arm before he could pull the trigger.
There was a sense of PRIDE in knowing by feel alone that her bare fist had just shattered someone's jaw with a sickening crack, the connection of a solid and unstoppable force to a very breakable object.
There was SECURITY in knowing her hand would be perfectly fine, with not even a bruise.
—And of course, with that first blow, the entire room erupted into gunfire
and the shattering of glass.
She had to start moving on her path to the exit immediately, and with haste. The corners of her smile curled upward just that little bit more.
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