He freezes in place, cocking an eyebrow at her, the barest hint of a predatory smirk lurking on his lips. He can feel the trip wire pressing against his shin through his pants leg. "Why, Fiona, whatever makes you think..."
"No time. Don't move." There is a ferocious edge to her voice that makes him heed her words. He goes stock still, eyes watching her as she drops to a knee in the doorway. Her green eyes fix on something he cannot see, and he watches as she tracks it from their position, to the door frame and into the small room.
He sees her fish in a pocket for what he thinks is a knife, but turns out to be an ingenious little multi-tool. Swiss, perhaps, though he can see no telltale splash of red. Her hand turns, opening it and she looks up into his face.
"Don't even breathe."
He raises his eyebrows, still smirking. There, clear as day, the glint of madness in her expression. A part of her enjoys this.
There is a click, something happening beyond his sight, and a twisting of metal. The wire across his shin digs in a bit more. "Other way?"
"Trust me. I know what I'm doing." She keeps her voice steady and low.
Another click and a little exhalation. The wire snaps and he hears it whip through the air, hears a heavy clunk as a counterweight drops. He closes his eyes... And nothing happens.
When he opens them, she is standing beside him, grinning like a kitten in cream, holding up a grenade with the pin firmly in place. A quick little twist of the pliers she's holding, and the pin cannot come out without being bent straight.
"Told you. I know what I'm doing."
"You're proving yourself quite useful, Fraulein." He uses the term because he knows it goads her. He still reaches out a hand and touches her hip.
"You're welcome." She glares at him, standing up on her tip toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Hanzi."
hans/fiona - broken line
"Don't move."
He freezes in place, cocking an eyebrow at her, the barest hint of a predatory smirk lurking on his lips. He can feel the trip wire pressing against his shin through his pants leg. "Why, Fiona, whatever makes you think..."
"No time. Don't move." There is a ferocious edge to her voice that makes him heed her words. He goes stock still, eyes watching her as she drops to a knee in the doorway. Her green eyes fix on something he cannot see, and he watches as she tracks it from their position, to the door frame and into the small room.
He sees her fish in a pocket for what he thinks is a knife, but turns out to be an ingenious little multi-tool. Swiss, perhaps, though he can see no telltale splash of red. Her hand turns, opening it and she looks up into his face.
"Don't even breathe."
He raises his eyebrows, still smirking. There, clear as day, the glint of madness in her expression. A part of her enjoys this.
There is a click, something happening beyond his sight, and a twisting of metal. The wire across his shin digs in a bit more. "Other way?"
"Trust me. I know what I'm doing." She keeps her voice steady and low.
Another click and a little exhalation. The wire snaps and he hears it whip through the air, hears a heavy clunk as a counterweight drops. He closes his eyes... And nothing happens.
When he opens them, she is standing beside him, grinning like a kitten in cream, holding up a grenade with the pin firmly in place. A quick little twist of the pliers she's holding, and the pin cannot come out without being bent straight.
"Told you. I know what I'm doing."
"You're proving yourself quite useful, Fraulein." He uses the term because he knows it goads her. He still reaches out a hand and touches her hip.
"You're welcome." She glares at him, standing up on her tip toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Hanzi."
She knows how to goad back.