Rufus suddenly felt like one of those annoying yappy dogs that had taken a rolled up newspaper across the nose. From Reno of all people.
Just who shot who around here? sat on the tip of his tongue before he jerked it back, checking the urge to draw blood with razored words. Those were the words that would surely mire him and Reno in another spat. It was far easier to listen to what Schuldig was saying and resist the urge to soothe his own wounded pride by striking back.
Besides, Reno did have a point. A small one.
"That doesn't change the fact that it would have been of greater benefit to all of us had you found out what was so special about the cellar versus trekking all the way upstairs with four experienced fighters and a near perfect shot who's talents were wasted. However... you are right. Your arena is protection, not mine."
For Rufus, that was what passed as agreement.
Flipping between two conversations was usually damned easy for Rufus. Business experience alone had taught him how to keep track of multiple things at once. The mild fever he had was what he blamed for struggling to keep up and pay attention to both men equally. Needless to say, Schuldig's news didn't sit well with him, nor did the knowledge that there was nothing any of them could do. He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, trying to will some plan or plot to come to him.
There was always something that could be done. Except this time, there wasn't. How does one keep back a mental wave when they can't even sense it? Something did click finally.
"What if you were unconscious, Schuldig? Does it stop then? Or can you use another mind to shield yours?"
no subject
Just who shot who around here? sat on the tip of his tongue before he jerked it back, checking the urge to draw blood with razored words. Those were the words that would surely mire him and Reno in another spat. It was far easier to listen to what Schuldig was saying and resist the urge to soothe his own wounded pride by striking back.
Besides, Reno did have a point. A small one.
"That doesn't change the fact that it would have been of greater benefit to all of us had you found out what was so special about the cellar versus trekking all the way upstairs with four experienced fighters and a near perfect shot who's talents were wasted. However... you are right. Your arena is protection, not mine."
For Rufus, that was what passed as agreement.
Flipping between two conversations was usually damned easy for Rufus. Business experience alone had taught him how to keep track of multiple things at once. The mild fever he had was what he blamed for struggling to keep up and pay attention to both men equally. Needless to say, Schuldig's news didn't sit well with him, nor did the knowledge that there was nothing any of them could do. He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, trying to will some plan or plot to come to him.
There was always something that could be done. Except this time, there wasn't. How does one keep back a mental wave when they can't even sense it? Something did click finally.
"What if you were unconscious, Schuldig? Does it stop then? Or can you use another mind to shield yours?"