[ Not understanding the source of the sigh, Maine nods and continues on. He moves more slowly, wanting to ensure that the Archivist can keep close. And the farther into the trees they go, the more the air itself feels like it's pressing in from all sides.
The sensation is a familiar one. It reminds Maine of the moments just before combat. It tastes like anticipation. Like imminent violence.
(Fear is most useful when he turns it into rage.)
The Freelancer pulls the pistol from his thigh and holds it at low ready. His breath is slow and even, but his shoulders are tense. And when he sees a flash of red eyes—
BAM!
— he snaps the gun up and fires without hesitation. ]
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The sensation is a familiar one. It reminds Maine of the moments just before combat. It tastes like anticipation. Like imminent violence.
(Fear is most useful when he turns it into rage.)
The Freelancer pulls the pistol from his thigh and holds it at low ready. His breath is slow and even, but his shoulders are tense. And when he sees a flash of red eyes—
BAM!
— he snaps the gun up and fires without hesitation. ]