[Blood is pulsing behind his eardrums, but it isn’t nearly enough to drown out the sound of Ashe’s return gunfire. For as unassuming as the other can appear, Dimitri knows much better — a gun in Ashe's hands is a death sentence to whoever is looking down the opposite end of the barrel. Shots fire off, one by one, each bullet silencing the raucous noise more and more. Until there’s nothing but the sound of silence, and Dimitri meets his gaze, anger marring sharp features.
He doesn’t reply at first. Dimitri takes the opportunity to make for his gun, swooping it up in a crouch and standing to his feet, visible eye ablaze as he pulls the hammer back and aims outwards toward their assailants. Blood ribbons from his injured eye squeezed shut and still pained; something to be concerned about later. (Glass, it must be glass, the drink in his hand had exploded into tiny shards when a bullet whizzed by, and suddenly he couldn’t see—)]
Goddamn it.
[He hisses out, furor behind each syllable, being met only with the crumpled corpses of their business partners and masked attackers, and a door flung open, letting in the polluted air of the nighttime, empty street. Whoever was left must have already fled, probably already long gone.
He whirls on his heel to assess the damage done to their side — a table full of holes, and behind that, a bar counter in a similar state. But rising from one end is Dedue, who is quickly making his way over to Dimitri, frowning sternly at the sight of blood marring his face. Felix, on the other end, staggers up to his feet with a knife slathered in red clutched in one hand. There must be another body lain on the ground behind the bar that Dimitri cannot see; looking at the neighboring back door, open ajar, gives more than enough clues as to what happened. Someone trying to sneak up from behind, instead met with Felix who was very unwilling to oblige.
Dedue is already reaching out to clasp a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, to turn him around so that he can assess the damage done. The blond shrugs him away, the buzz of danger and adrenaline and anger making him impatient to all those around him.]
I’m fine, not now— Ashe. [He calls for the other, knowing he’s fine, and flings a request his way.] Unmask them; I want to know who would be stupid enough to do this to us.
[Minus the one behind the bar, the majority of the assailants’ bodies are strewn near the entrance of the restaurant (a front, of course). Easy enough to locate them, he thinks, though Dimitri is blissfully unaware of another body — one far more familiar to all of them, unaccounted for in the fresh wake of this chaos — that lays near where he directs Ashe to go.]
no subject
He doesn’t reply at first. Dimitri takes the opportunity to make for his gun, swooping it up in a crouch and standing to his feet, visible eye ablaze as he pulls the hammer back and aims outwards toward their assailants. Blood ribbons from his injured eye squeezed shut and still pained; something to be concerned about later. (Glass, it must be glass, the drink in his hand had exploded into tiny shards when a bullet whizzed by, and suddenly he couldn’t see—)]
Goddamn it.
[He hisses out, furor behind each syllable, being met only with the crumpled corpses of their business partners and masked attackers, and a door flung open, letting in the polluted air of the nighttime, empty street. Whoever was left must have already fled, probably already long gone.
He whirls on his heel to assess the damage done to their side — a table full of holes, and behind that, a bar counter in a similar state. But rising from one end is Dedue, who is quickly making his way over to Dimitri, frowning sternly at the sight of blood marring his face. Felix, on the other end, staggers up to his feet with a knife slathered in red clutched in one hand. There must be another body lain on the ground behind the bar that Dimitri cannot see; looking at the neighboring back door, open ajar, gives more than enough clues as to what happened. Someone trying to sneak up from behind, instead met with Felix who was very unwilling to oblige.
Dedue is already reaching out to clasp a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, to turn him around so that he can assess the damage done. The blond shrugs him away, the buzz of danger and adrenaline and anger making him impatient to all those around him.]
I’m fine, not now— Ashe. [He calls for the other, knowing he’s fine, and flings a request his way.] Unmask them; I want to know who would be stupid enough to do this to us.
[Minus the one behind the bar, the majority of the assailants’ bodies are strewn near the entrance of the restaurant (a front, of course). Easy enough to locate them, he thinks, though Dimitri is blissfully unaware of another body — one far more familiar to all of them, unaccounted for in the fresh wake of this chaos — that lays near where he directs Ashe to go.]