[ This is, possibly, the worst he’s done in a fight in years. He feels stupidly green in front of this man, a sensation he hasn’t known in years that twists hot and uncomfortable in his chest. Like swallowing glass and feeling it catch and grind against his bones: the failure is abject, and that cannot be allowed to stand when the stakes are so very high.
It was his fault that the others died. If he can get it back—
He has to. There is no other choice here. Failure is worse than death and this motherfucker’s hands are around his wrists, shaking him like an unruly dog. The way an instructor might with a student who hasn’t yet understand the magnitude of what they need to learn. Like this is some kind of game, only no one’s explained the rules—only the eternal cost of losing.
Carver bares his teeth in an animal sneer and knees that motherfucker in the dick. ]
no subject
It was his fault that the others died. If he can get it back—
He has to. There is no other choice here. Failure is worse than death and this motherfucker’s hands are around his wrists, shaking him like an unruly dog. The way an instructor might with a student who hasn’t yet understand the magnitude of what they need to learn. Like this is some kind of game, only no one’s explained the rules—only the eternal cost of losing.
Carver bares his teeth in an animal sneer and knees that motherfucker in the dick. ]