[ Of course. Of course that's what happens. His guard down, submitting to this...this weakness, and the one to come across him in that exact moment is none other than Washington himself.
Locus's head lifts, staring first at the gun, then past it to the man with his sights trained on the merc. But he doesn't make a move towards any of his weapons, doesn't move his hand from where it currently rests, traitorously clutching that growing hardness under his suit.
But the sweat trickling down his back has nothing to do with fear. He just stares from under those heavy brows, waiting for one second. Then two. ]
...are you here to kill me, Agent Washington?
[ His voice sounds rough, low and husky, even without the distortion of the filter, like he hasn't used it in ages. No fear, not even surprise. Why bother? Washington could kill him in that moment, easily. What a shameful victory that it would be, humiliating on top of it all. And yet Locus doesn't so much as balk. The gun is aimed, but Washington is a professional.
And his finger isn't on the trigger quite yet. That in itself is telling. ]
you bet your sweet ass it is
Locus's head lifts, staring first at the gun, then past it to the man with his sights trained on the merc. But he doesn't make a move towards any of his weapons, doesn't move his hand from where it currently rests, traitorously clutching that growing hardness under his suit.
But the sweat trickling down his back has nothing to do with fear. He just stares from under those heavy brows, waiting for one second. Then two. ]
...are you here to kill me, Agent Washington?
[ His voice sounds rough, low and husky, even without the distortion of the filter, like he hasn't used it in ages. No fear, not even surprise. Why bother? Washington could kill him in that moment, easily. What a shameful victory that it would be, humiliating on top of it all. And yet Locus doesn't so much as balk. The gun is aimed, but Washington is a professional.
And his finger isn't on the trigger quite yet. That in itself is telling. ]