[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Morgue [Flatline]
Aug 1, 2020 20:48:42 GMT -5
Post by Flatline on Aug 1, 2020 20:48:42 GMT -5
"I did more than you realize to secure my place, Flatline."
Some things need not be said. Tone, body language, overall 'aura' that hung around the words with a subconscious edge... Flatline did not need to fill in the blanks with any accuracy, he did not NEED to know the actual confrontations and actions that lead her to her role. While his processor did lean in the direction of a more brutal approach, mutilating and murdering her way through the competition, it was so hard to say anything as fact. What mattered was the feeling her words offered, and the subtle... or perhaps not too subtle warning that hung around it that was flung his way.
Flatline's gaze flicked off to the side at this, ramping up his passivity, trying to not look like he was trying to hold his ground any longer. His meek stance and actions may have been the kindling force that brought on this confrontation initially, however he was taking a bit of a gamble in hoping such a look could be translated as submission to her threat rather than a 'mopey sulky mess' this time. He had played with luck, he spat Death in the eye and somehow crawled his way out of it... Looking back now that the seething anger quelled to a low simmer, he didn't even know how he pulled through it with only frayed nerves and a strained neck in front of an individual as strong as Coldwind.
She could have so easily popped his helm off his shoulders.
As the behemoth moved to settle down upon the berth, Flatline pushed back a small bit to eek further onto his own bed. He moved so far that his back pressed down against the stone and dirt wall, a small bit of grit dislodging from the angular panels of his frame scraping ever so slightly. He didn’t know what would be the best course of action. Was she settling down where she would badger and talk more? Or was she trying to sleep now and wanted him to be quiet? Flatline knew he wouldn't really be able to sleep however, at least not with any level of true rest behind it to recharge and recover after a long day.
Reaching his hand up, Flatline's right palm smeared down along his face, before snagging a bit on the paneling of his lower jaw. He tried to weigh the pros and cons of simply returning to the Medical Bay. Would it be better to not sleep and just work? Or would it be better to only get half sleep out of nervous fear...? For now, he was locked in place, trying to see what Coldwind would do. Perhaps if she did try to sleep and said nothing more, it would help influence his own decisions, his red eyes settled upon her.
Some things need not be said. Tone, body language, overall 'aura' that hung around the words with a subconscious edge... Flatline did not need to fill in the blanks with any accuracy, he did not NEED to know the actual confrontations and actions that lead her to her role. While his processor did lean in the direction of a more brutal approach, mutilating and murdering her way through the competition, it was so hard to say anything as fact. What mattered was the feeling her words offered, and the subtle... or perhaps not too subtle warning that hung around it that was flung his way.
Flatline's gaze flicked off to the side at this, ramping up his passivity, trying to not look like he was trying to hold his ground any longer. His meek stance and actions may have been the kindling force that brought on this confrontation initially, however he was taking a bit of a gamble in hoping such a look could be translated as submission to her threat rather than a 'mopey sulky mess' this time. He had played with luck, he spat Death in the eye and somehow crawled his way out of it... Looking back now that the seething anger quelled to a low simmer, he didn't even know how he pulled through it with only frayed nerves and a strained neck in front of an individual as strong as Coldwind.
She could have so easily popped his helm off his shoulders.
As the behemoth moved to settle down upon the berth, Flatline pushed back a small bit to eek further onto his own bed. He moved so far that his back pressed down against the stone and dirt wall, a small bit of grit dislodging from the angular panels of his frame scraping ever so slightly. He didn’t know what would be the best course of action. Was she settling down where she would badger and talk more? Or was she trying to sleep now and wanted him to be quiet? Flatline knew he wouldn't really be able to sleep however, at least not with any level of true rest behind it to recharge and recover after a long day.
Reaching his hand up, Flatline's right palm smeared down along his face, before snagging a bit on the paneling of his lower jaw. He tried to weigh the pros and cons of simply returning to the Medical Bay. Would it be better to not sleep and just work? Or would it be better to only get half sleep out of nervous fear...? For now, he was locked in place, trying to see what Coldwind would do. Perhaps if she did try to sleep and said nothing more, it would help influence his own decisions, his red eyes settled upon her.