[The sound of Cecelia's gun registers after the sudden pain blossoming in his arm. The latter stills him completely, his expression darkening with confusion as he stares at his target. Zeroing in on that second holeβthe spot is the same as the one in his upper arm, he turns his head to look at Cecelia with muted annoyance as he lowers his gun. Bringing his hand to the afflicted spot, it certainly isn't just sensation, there's the wetness of blood he feels through the fabric as if he was truly shot. Though there's a blueish glow as his flesh begins to mend itself automatically, a process he does not quite know why it occurs, but at the moment he is not going to question it.]
His hardened stare stays fixed at her.]
Reprisal?
[There's no edge to his voice still, even if he looks more annoyed than he did before the shot.]
no subject
His hardened stare stays fixed at her.]
Reprisal?
[There's no edge to his voice still, even if he looks more annoyed than he did before the shot.]