[ The new sounds that erupt from outside the arena absolutely grab Wash's attention. His gaze is tugged off of an approaching guard the second he's put a round through their skull and settled instead on... Oh, you've got to be kidding. Just a huge pillar toppling down over the arena, no big deal. Whoever it is that's busting him out, they sure do like to put on a show.
He may not be directly in the path of the falling metal, but that's not something he wants to risk. It's preferable that he go without being hit by any debris, as well. Taking several quick steps back, Wash only stops when he's sure he's at a safe distance and raises his rifle again. In the chaos and all the dust that billows up as the pillar hits the ground though, he can't get proper sights on anyone. No one excepting one guard who, before Wash can even pull the trigger, is already dead. And the colour and pattern of those lights is all too familiar.
Of course it's Rinzler. Who else? He's officially going to have to come up with a large gesture to pay the program back for all the assistance that has been thrown his way. He owes like, two life saving debts now.
Now isn't the time for stopping and staring in disbelief at a crewmember with a flair for the dramatic, however. About a half-second before they're under fire, Wash is moving back toward the pillar, the brand new cover, and ducks below the burst of bullets. Clutching the rifle to his chest, hands gripping it tightly, as though they need proof that it's real, he shoots Rinzler a look when the program joins him. ]
At least you gave them the show that they paid for.
[ It's deadpan, and Wash shows no further sign of humour than making the comment. No real greeting, either, but he doubts Rinzler of all people cares at all about pleasantries. There's a time and a place for them, and this is not it. ]
Good to know that absences on the ship were noted.
[ That's an assumption. Seems like a reasonable one though, because if Rinzler had ended up in the outpost the same way he had, it seems doubtful that escape would have taken this long. And yet more doubtful that Wash himself would have been found.
Bullets continue to whizz overhead, and Wash ducks down just an inch further. Close-quarters combat without his armour is bad enough, but a full-out battle like this with far more opponents than there are allies? God, does he hate it. He feels so exposed and vulnerable. It won't stop him from fighting back, but it makes him uncomfortable enough that it's notable. ]
I actually started missing the Moira at one point. Didn't think that was possible.
[ There's a lull in fire--not likely to last long, but Wash still wants to take advantage of it. Peeking out over the cover of the pillar just high enough to peer through the scope on his rifle, he aims quickly and pulls the trigger. Once, twice, three times in the span of a brief moment, downing three foes before he crouches back down to safety. ]
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He may not be directly in the path of the falling metal, but that's not something he wants to risk. It's preferable that he go without being hit by any debris, as well. Taking several quick steps back, Wash only stops when he's sure he's at a safe distance and raises his rifle again. In the chaos and all the dust that billows up as the pillar hits the ground though, he can't get proper sights on anyone. No one excepting one guard who, before Wash can even pull the trigger, is already dead. And the colour and pattern of those lights is all too familiar.
Of course it's Rinzler. Who else? He's officially going to have to come up with a large gesture to pay the program back for all the assistance that has been thrown his way. He owes like, two life saving debts now.
Now isn't the time for stopping and staring in disbelief at a crewmember with a flair for the dramatic, however. About a half-second before they're under fire, Wash is moving back toward the pillar, the brand new cover, and ducks below the burst of bullets. Clutching the rifle to his chest, hands gripping it tightly, as though they need proof that it's real, he shoots Rinzler a look when the program joins him. ]
At least you gave them the show that they paid for.
[ It's deadpan, and Wash shows no further sign of humour than making the comment. No real greeting, either, but he doubts Rinzler of all people cares at all about pleasantries. There's a time and a place for them, and this is not it. ]
Good to know that absences on the ship were noted.
[ That's an assumption. Seems like a reasonable one though, because if Rinzler had ended up in the outpost the same way he had, it seems doubtful that escape would have taken this long. And yet more doubtful that Wash himself would have been found.
Bullets continue to whizz overhead, and Wash ducks down just an inch further. Close-quarters combat without his armour is bad enough, but a full-out battle like this with far more opponents than there are allies? God, does he hate it. He feels so exposed and vulnerable. It won't stop him from fighting back, but it makes him uncomfortable enough that it's notable. ]
I actually started missing the Moira at one point. Didn't think that was possible.
[ There's a lull in fire--not likely to last long, but Wash still wants to take advantage of it. Peeking out over the cover of the pillar just high enough to peer through the scope on his rifle, he aims quickly and pulls the trigger. Once, twice, three times in the span of a brief moment, downing three foes before he crouches back down to safety. ]