[While Jensen was very much used to running from people or generally avoiding being out in public for too long to avoid the risk of being made, this was definitely out of the ordinary. Though he should expect this in his line of work, so there wasn't much room for him to whine about it.
Maybe it was because he wasn't used to being away from the rest of The Losers for too long when he was on a mission—they practically did everything together when they weren't away with their families— but even he thinks it's because it wasn't everyday that he, of all people, was being whisked away on a crazy adventure by gorgeous, albeit dangerous-looking lady such as Sivir. Usually it was Clay, or Cougar who got girls like these. Not him. This seemed like a once in a lifetime sort of deal for him.
But as much as he did not want to blow it with her, he had to ask.]
Tell me again who were running from and why we're running from them?
[ friends, of course, is the common term used by the prey to say they're the ones who wish for their heads. that is an experience sivir never wishes to understand to receive. give, however, is a need when it comes to the dead or alive bounties. hell, this isn't even the hot sands of the shurima desert that she's familiar with. this is far from it, but it reminds her of the plague jungle. where on earth is she?
how fortunate that the fates give her a chance with a man in a rather flattering shirt. go petunias. ]
[If Jensen's eyebrows could rise to his hairline like a character from a cartoon, it would be doing that right now. But just as quickly, the furrow downward, knitting themselves closely together.]
You're joking, right? Please tell me your joking. [A nervous laugh follows.]
If people chasing you down and hunting you are supposed to be your "friends"— [He actually does finger quotes in the air as he says that.] —then you might want to crack open a dictionary and brush up on your vocabulary. If you ask me, friends would definitely be the farthest description from my mind right now.
Sometimes they are, when they have the gold for it!
[ friends. enemies. sivir can count the number of people she considers "good people who won't hit her face" in one hand. with everyone else, there's a number on their forehead. speaking of hitting her face, a bullet barely scathes her right cheek — it stings, but that's hardly a concern when breath still goes in her lungs.
that doesn't mean there's no retaliation. the large bladed wheel on her back, she grabs hold of it and swings it behind. one is beheaded, the other are injured and unable to pull the trigger. said blade returns back to her hand. ]
Oh, this is just getting better and better, isn't it? [The next part is said beneath his breath but it's still loud enough for Sivir to catch if she's listening.] A tourist she says. The dictionary thing was a joke but I'm starting to think that this should be an actual thing that's going to happen when we're through with this.
[He unclips the magazine of his pistol to check just how much ammo was left on him. A curse beneath his breath is muttered as he replaces the magazine. He risks peeking out of his hiding spot, just to see exactly how many men she'd taken down from that one swing. The answer? Quite a bit.
Jensen ducks back in, deciding that he probably better stay on her good side.]
A tourist... Could've fooled me. [...Though clearly he's not off to a very good start. A plan though, he may have.] Hmm, how's about getting as far away from here without getting killed. That seems like a good plan, if you ask me.
[ there are people in the world that sivir knows would turn around and fight to the death because of their honor. she is not like those people, which is why an intrigued huh leaves her lips. did that mean jensen has a little getaway device nearby, or — ]
That's a really good plan. [ whatever it is, it's an escape. ] Show a girl the way out of here, would you?
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no subject
Maybe it was because he wasn't used to being away from the rest of The Losers for too long when he was on a mission—they practically did everything together when they weren't away with their families— but even he thinks it's because it wasn't everyday that he, of all people, was being whisked away on a crazy adventure by gorgeous, albeit dangerous-looking lady such as Sivir. Usually it was Clay, or Cougar who got girls like these. Not him. This seemed like a once in a lifetime sort of deal for him.
But as much as he did not want to blow it with her, he had to ask.]
Tell me again who were running from and why we're running from them?
MY LATENESS... GOMEN
Hold on. You mean they're not your friends?
[ friends, of course, is the common term used by the prey to say they're the ones who wish for their heads. that is an experience sivir never wishes to understand to receive. give, however, is a need when it comes to the dead or alive bounties. hell, this isn't even the hot sands of the shurima desert that she's familiar with. this is far from it, but it reminds her of the plague jungle. where on earth is she?
how fortunate that the fates give her a chance with a man in a rather flattering shirt. go petunias. ]
no sweat!
You're joking, right? Please tell me your joking. [A nervous laugh follows.]
If people chasing you down and hunting you are supposed to be your "friends"— [He actually does finger quotes in the air as he says that.] —then you might want to crack open a dictionary and brush up on your vocabulary. If you ask me, friends would definitely be the farthest description from my mind right now.
no subject
[ friends. enemies. sivir can count the number of people she considers "good people who won't hit her face" in one hand. with everyone else, there's a number on their forehead. speaking of hitting her face, a bullet barely scathes her right cheek — it stings, but that's hardly a concern when breath still goes in her lungs.
that doesn't mean there's no retaliation. the large bladed wheel on her back, she grabs hold of it and swings it behind. one is beheaded, the other are injured and unable to pull the trigger. said blade returns back to her hand. ]
I don't suppose you've got a plan? I'm a tourist.
no subject
[He unclips the magazine of his pistol to check just how much ammo was left on him. A curse beneath his breath is muttered as he replaces the magazine. He risks peeking out of his hiding spot, just to see exactly how many men she'd taken down from that one swing. The answer? Quite a bit.
Jensen ducks back in, deciding that he probably better stay on her good side.]
A tourist... Could've fooled me. [...Though clearly he's not off to a very good start. A plan though, he may have.] Hmm, how's about getting as far away from here without getting killed. That seems like a good plan, if you ask me.
no subject
That's a really good plan. [ whatever it is, it's an escape. ] Show a girl the way out of here, would you?