Later, in hindsight (fuckin'-a) he'd think about how incredibly lucky they were the forgotten Fiend he'd spotted that had caused his little blunder was so hyped up that what was probably intended as a neat headshot had instead cracked off the concrete a good two feet above him. Then he'd retract that sentiment and instead kinda wish it had been aimed better.
As it was, the two of them managed to take that warning and forget, albeit briefly, the hilariously awkward misshap long enough to spring into action. Almost instantly, the Fiend in question was dropping thirty feet to the ground below with a sizeable hole between his eyebrows before the echo of the crack-boom had even subsided. The commotion had the others they'd heard earlier pouring out of every nook and cranny like so many cockroaches, and Boone almost, almost, felt bad for killing them, because the poor bastards had at least provided him a distraction from his mounting embarrassment, which made them very nearly okay in his book.
Not okay enough that dropping them en masse didn't feel good. Right now they were one letter away from being Friends but dropping them en masse always felt good so fuck them anyway.
Six finished off the last tire iron-wielding tweaker off with a point-blank shotgun blast that made an ugly mess of a head that wasn't too pretty to begin with.
They took a moment to catch their breath amidst a cloud of gunsmoke and adrenaline, wiping bloodspatters off their faces. Adrenaline, adrenaline was good. Adrenaline was great. Fighting was fantastic.
The courier bent over to pick through the sucker's pockers - why the hell couldn't she crouch like a normal person why the hell weren't there more Fiends he really needed more Fiends.
On second thought maybe adrenaline wasn't that great. Riding high on adrenaline when he was looking at her rear just seemed to compound the problem. He was still distracted when she straightened back up again, tucking a handful of caps and ammo into her pack as she turned to glance at him. He looked her dead in the eye, just to not look at-- Nope he was too humiliated to look her in the eye. He glanced down at his gun instead, cleared his throat, lashed it to his back again. Looked at her. Looked at a dead Fiend. Looked at her. Just don't look at her-- Looked at her ass.
What the fuck was wrong here there was no other ass in the world that distracting why couldn't he stop--
She snatched his wrist, and his panicked train of thought derailed then and there as she slapped his open-palmed hand against her ass and pressed it there a moment.
Yep, now seemed like a great time for that natural disaster. Come on, earth, just open up and swallow him please. God, do your stuff.
Heart, please attack. Please.
Fingers, stop squeezing, what the fuck are you doing, he didn't tell you to--
God damn that ass.
She was raising an eyebrow at him, and looking amused, maybe self-satisfied. "That good?"
"Uh."
"Feeling better? Got it out of your system? Think we can get a move on now?"
"..." His hand gave it another squeeze despite himself and he glared at it like the fucking traitor it was. "Uh, yeah. I'm good now. I'd really like my hand back, please."
She laughed, and released him, then began trotting off.
Unfortunately, that experience just made the walk a hell of a lot more uncomfortable. Physically speaking.
Generous ASSets, 4/4
As it was, the two of them managed to take that warning and forget, albeit briefly, the hilariously awkward misshap long enough to spring into action. Almost instantly, the Fiend in question was dropping thirty feet to the ground below with a sizeable hole between his eyebrows before the echo of the crack-boom had even subsided. The commotion had the others they'd heard earlier pouring out of every nook and cranny like so many cockroaches, and Boone almost, almost, felt bad for killing them, because the poor bastards had at least provided him a distraction from his mounting embarrassment, which made them very nearly okay in his book.
Not okay enough that dropping them en masse didn't feel good. Right now they were one letter away from being Friends but dropping them en masse always felt good so fuck them anyway.
Six finished off the last tire iron-wielding tweaker off with a point-blank shotgun blast that made an ugly mess of a head that wasn't too pretty to begin with.
They took a moment to catch their breath amidst a cloud of gunsmoke and adrenaline, wiping bloodspatters off their faces. Adrenaline, adrenaline was good. Adrenaline was great. Fighting was fantastic.
The courier bent over to pick through the sucker's pockers - why the hell couldn't she crouch like a normal person why the hell weren't there more Fiends he really needed more Fiends.
On second thought maybe adrenaline wasn't that great. Riding high on adrenaline when he was looking at her rear just seemed to compound the problem. He was still distracted when she straightened back up again, tucking a handful of caps and ammo into her pack as she turned to glance at him. He looked her dead in the eye, just to not look at-- Nope he was too humiliated to look her in the eye. He glanced down at his gun instead, cleared his throat, lashed it to his back again. Looked at her. Looked at a dead Fiend. Looked at her. Just don't look at her-- Looked at her ass.
What the fuck was wrong here there was no other ass in the world that distracting why couldn't he stop--
She snatched his wrist, and his panicked train of thought derailed then and there as she slapped his open-palmed hand against her ass and pressed it there a moment.
Yep, now seemed like a great time for that natural disaster. Come on, earth, just open up and swallow him please. God, do your stuff.
Heart, please attack. Please.
Fingers, stop squeezing, what the fuck are you doing, he didn't tell you to--
God damn that ass.
She was raising an eyebrow at him, and looking amused, maybe self-satisfied. "That good?"
"Uh."
"Feeling better? Got it out of your system? Think we can get a move on now?"
"..." His hand gave it another squeeze despite himself and he glared at it like the fucking traitor it was. "Uh, yeah. I'm good now. I'd really like my hand back, please."
She laughed, and released him, then began trotting off.
Unfortunately, that experience just made the walk a hell of a lot more uncomfortable. Physically speaking.