[ He goes where he’s guided, his free arm curled protectively over his middle, hand glued to his side. They move further into the underbrush, off the beaten path. ]
Just— don’t get us killed. [ As wryly as he can manage. ] That’d really spoil this reunion.
no subject
Just— don’t get us killed. [ As wryly as he can manage. ] That’d really spoil this reunion.