[ (Makkachin is the best kind of nonsense name that everyone should use when it comes to canines.) he doesn't protest her hand on his back or the way she steps back around in front of him. if he doesn't have some measure of faith in adults to at least know something of themselves, he'd be inviting a bunch of useless worry he has no time or energy to actually handle. that was, even if he connected well with people on a personal level.
but trust? sure. not because it feels great nodding and agreeing; ]
Keep your audience surprised.
[ but because he can recognise a necessity, and his plan is one he knows he can act on. thus he firmly moves toward the door, holding back from a run because creating two moving points of interest feels like a bad plan.
fast walking, however, feels perfectly necessary. his hand finds the handle to the access hatch. a backward glance at Sombra is all he gives before pulling up on the handle and shoving Makkachin and himself through.
he doesn't close the door behind him. depending on what she defined as catching up, leaving it open might be what he needs to do. in the meantime, he calls to his dog and takes off at a loping run back up the curving hall, heading straight toward the communication terminals he knows are spaced closer toward that end of the ship. what a day to have his own communicator down...!
Sombra is left with her not-quite-friend lurching to the side, head whipping around at the sound of the opening door, but light is more attractive than the shapes slipping away into that dully-lit corridor. the lights of her body mods are far more captivating. with a shuddering sigh, it tromps on forward, reaching out and making a frustrated sort of garbled verbal response. it wants, and doesn't know how to say that; wants the light more than it even wants to eat. ]
no subject
but trust? sure. not because it feels great nodding and agreeing; ]
Keep your audience surprised.
[ but because he can recognise a necessity, and his plan is one he knows he can act on. thus he firmly moves toward the door, holding back from a run because creating two moving points of interest feels like a bad plan.
fast walking, however, feels perfectly necessary. his hand finds the handle to the access hatch. a backward glance at Sombra is all he gives before pulling up on the handle and shoving Makkachin and himself through.
he doesn't close the door behind him. depending on what she defined as catching up, leaving it open might be what he needs to do. in the meantime, he calls to his dog and takes off at a loping run back up the curving hall, heading straight toward the communication terminals he knows are spaced closer toward that end of the ship. what a day to have his own communicator down...!
Sombra is left with her not-quite-friend lurching to the side, head whipping around at the sound of the opening door, but light is more attractive than the shapes slipping away into that dully-lit corridor. the lights of her body mods are far more captivating. with a shuddering sigh, it tromps on forward, reaching out and making a frustrated sort of garbled verbal response. it wants, and doesn't know how to say that; wants the light more than it even wants to eat. ]