[Isn't that a sight to behold. Beckett doesn't know how well he can follow on; Kindred are natural liars, but lying too overtly would take energy. He sticks to standing at Fiona's back, giving a nod to back her words, and, rather than letting the adrenaline get the better of his exhaustion, letting it fall over him like a leaden weight.
Not that hard. Just the sight of the mould makes his lungs protest. He takes half a step back and stands half out in the snow, a silent, shivering image of misery. No pouncing and biting from him, surely?]
no subject
Not that hard. Just the sight of the mould makes his lungs protest. He takes half a step back and stands half out in the snow, a silent, shivering image of misery. No pouncing and biting from him, surely?]