"You think I'm that dumb?" he snarls. He's got a limited number of bullets before he has to reload and the high, splintering sound of breaking glass is a firm enough indication that he'd best make every shot count, because the span of time it takes to reload will be more than enough for that - that thing to get an adequate hit in.
He charges after with ruthless abandon, air sharp with the sting of cordite, the rattling click of a discarded shell rolling across the floor. He's got the advantage of distance. He's got the advantage. He can - he will do this, despite the thing's guileless taunts and jabs.
He'll make it work. He must. He must.
"You think I plan to fit into the world I'm making? You think I'd pretend that I'm meant to live through this?"
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He charges after with ruthless abandon, air sharp with the sting of cordite, the rattling click of a discarded shell rolling across the floor. He's got the advantage of distance. He's got the advantage. He can - he will do this, despite the thing's guileless taunts and jabs.
He'll make it work. He must. He must.
"You think I plan to fit into the world I'm making? You think I'd pretend that I'm meant to live through this?"