May 13, 2017
@warliar, ✕
Grabbed and thrown like a dog, the hard landing knocked the wind out of him, and Frank was on the ground not knowing what to do with himself. Not like he had beforehand, lightheaded, or some such thing. “B-Boss–” He still stuttered more than groaned, tongue running away with it. The hot palm against the back of his neck was steadying, forcefully so, and like in intensity to the grip that’d left burning, fading white and red stripes on his forearm by pulling; the gulp of air that followed wasn’t exactly what the veteran soldier had told him to do. Gray eyes had a wildness to them that surely didn’t show at the sight of others’ blood.
