It's the sorry that causes the sparked anger to stop, flames flickering before fading away, lips pressed into a thin line. Grip on that arm loosening before letting go, letting out a heavy breath filled with smoke-
The dark drains out of the room slowly, slower than it had appeared, caught off guard by something as simple as an apology in the face of his own anger. Hand nearly going for his mask, something he hid behind as well as it carried a message to all of those who would look upon it; a comfort, but still it would remain there on the table.
Instead Reaper went to piecing the parts of McCree's bionic, just to have something to do with his hands. They went on much more quickly than they'd been taken off, no having to watch for something to not touch and clean off.
"I don't remember you asking." Softly, but it carried that same rasp. What would McCree staying have done?
no subject
The dark drains out of the room slowly, slower than it had appeared, caught off guard by something as simple as an apology in the face of his own anger. Hand nearly going for his mask, something he hid behind as well as it carried a message to all of those who would look upon it; a comfort, but still it would remain there on the table.
Instead Reaper went to piecing the parts of McCree's bionic, just to have something to do with his hands. They went on much more quickly than they'd been taken off, no having to watch for something to not touch and clean off.
"I don't remember you asking." Softly, but it carried that same rasp. What would McCree staying have done?