[If Rufus is pushing all the wrong buttons, then so is Alec. He can feel another “fuck you” right on the tip of his tongue, begging to be released, but this time he thinks better of it. And yeah, he holds onto that bag, gripping it tight and then slinging it over his shoulder. He’ll sell his goddamn clothes if he has to; it’d be more helpful than him, right now.]
Don’t talk down to me. [Cold, sharp. There’s only so much of Alec’s attitude he’ll take, even if he expects the other man to deal with his own.
With that, he’s going to turn on his heel and head towards the vendor. The man, initially put-off by Rufus’ bad mood, helps this grouchy customer all the same — and minutes later, Rufus has a familiar weapon held in one hand, along with a gun strap to keep it slotted neatly against his back: an automatic shotgun.
A far cry from his, of course, which is custom made and balanced just right. But though it’s basic, it packs a punch, it’ll get the job done, and he knows how to use it.
Is he returning to Alec? No. You come over here, you jerk.]
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Don’t talk down to me. [Cold, sharp. There’s only so much of Alec’s attitude he’ll take, even if he expects the other man to deal with his own.
With that, he’s going to turn on his heel and head towards the vendor. The man, initially put-off by Rufus’ bad mood, helps this grouchy customer all the same — and minutes later, Rufus has a familiar weapon held in one hand, along with a gun strap to keep it slotted neatly against his back: an automatic shotgun.
A far cry from his, of course, which is custom made and balanced just right. But though it’s basic, it packs a punch, it’ll get the job done, and he knows how to use it.
Is he returning to Alec? No. You come over here, you jerk.]