[They fight their way out of his grip with the tenacity and intensity of someone who's dying, someone who's panicking, with all of Jay's wiry, spider-legged strength. He can't keep them in his grasp, not with his brain clouded and muzzled with gas and the glint of Alex's glasses in the periphery of his vision and them fighting so hard, and they slip-tumble out, manage to land on their feet.]
[They fall back against him. He's already dropping down to meet them, half-crouching to allow for stability without the added invasion of physical restraint.]
[His throat is ragged and torn, but the words are steady. They come to him, instead. Linked by the red of their souls. He doesn't recognize the woman with them, but he can't say for certain that he should.]
Shh. It's okay. [It's mostly uttered to the kids, who might not be okay but can fake it like champs. Who learned to, longer back than he can say. He has to shutter his eyes and focus completely and entirely on them - or risk the intrusion of a man with a hood pulled over his features, the red, foolishly cartoonish frowning face slashed over black.] Breathe.
no subject
[They fall back against him. He's already dropping down to meet them, half-crouching to allow for stability without the added invasion of physical restraint.]
[His throat is ragged and torn, but the words are steady. They come to him, instead. Linked by the red of their souls. He doesn't recognize the woman with them, but he can't say for certain that he should.]
Shh. It's okay. [It's mostly uttered to the kids, who might not be okay but can fake it like champs. Who learned to, longer back than he can say. He has to shutter his eyes and focus completely and entirely on them - or risk the intrusion of a man with a hood pulled over his features, the red, foolishly cartoonish frowning face slashed over black.] Breathe.