[Christ, but he hates this side of the island. Hates it.]
[That's standard. Most people hate this side of the island. It brings out the worst in them, despite the trees and the ambience and the kinder weather and the lack of anything that cares to want to kill you. It's not worth the trade off. But because of who Agent Washington is as a person, because this part of Monsun brings his paranoia and his aggression and his anger frothing to the surface, he's in full fucking armor as he's tramping through the undergrowth, on his way to the better side of the island. The hot, arid desert that doesn't make him want to shoot something if he's there for longer than an hour.]
[He nearly trips over someone en route. His reaction is terse, immediate, and involves the whip-quick drawing of a sidearm when his heart jags up against his ribs, nerves shot to hell.]
Jesus -
[His expression is impossible to discern through the visor of faceshielding, Duraplexed and gold, but his tone makes it pretty clear that he's pissed.]
no subject
[That's standard. Most people hate this side of the island. It brings out the worst in them, despite the trees and the ambience and the kinder weather and the lack of anything that cares to want to kill you. It's not worth the trade off. But because of who Agent Washington is as a person, because this part of Monsun brings his paranoia and his aggression and his anger frothing to the surface, he's in full fucking armor as he's tramping through the undergrowth, on his way to the better side of the island. The hot, arid desert that doesn't make him want to shoot something if he's there for longer than an hour.]
[He nearly trips over someone en route. His reaction is terse, immediate, and involves the whip-quick drawing of a sidearm when his heart jags up against his ribs, nerves shot to hell.]
Jesus -
[His expression is impossible to discern through the visor of faceshielding, Duraplexed and gold, but his tone makes it pretty clear that he's pissed.]
I almost stepped on you.