[Barnabas stays still as Cid pats his leg and stands, though his gaze stays on him while he speaks and gestures with the gun. He narrows his eyes at the careless behavior.]
Do not wave it.
[With that order, he turns his attention back to his own target, aiming for the heart.]
I do not. Though, it would seem we are meant to strike something.
[He fires, shooting his paper-self in the chest. He pauses a moment, waits for pain to blossom in his own bosom.
no subject
Do not wave it.
[With that order, he turns his attention back to his own target, aiming for the heart.]
I do not. Though, it would seem we are meant to strike something.
[He fires, shooting his paper-self in the chest. He pauses a moment, waits for pain to blossom in his own bosom.
It does not.]
Fascinating.